We Live In a Beautiful World

i cannot believe that Week 5 of the Avignon program is over! I don't know how that happened. And apparently, the first five weeks are supposed to be the SLOW half. At this rate, I'll be in London...tomorrow!

A few notes about week 5 (the week that is supposed to be the "hardest")

Classes are still being held in the annoying building, but thankfully we get to go back to the Fac next week. Having 6 hours of class in the same room is quite painful (especially when Grammar, Literature, and History are all on the same day). Goodness, I haven't had 6 hours of consecutive class in the same building since 5th grade! I mean, 6 hours of class sucks regardless, let alone when I have to sit in the same chair. Other than the raging ADD that this building is causing, classes haven't been too bad. We got our grammar tests back, and I did well on that. We also had a resistance test on Monday, and an oral portion on Wednesday. I think I got a 100%. Yay! I'm only slightly behind on my resistance reading, and I think I'm finally caught up with grammar work! All this is good news. I'm in a much better place than I was on Sunday, when I had to read 100 pages of L'Armée des Ombres to prepare for the test.

Speaking of Sunday...the strangest thing happened. First of all, let me start by saying that I had not seen Isabelle for a week and a half. Apparently she was on vacation, but she kind of neglected to tell us. Jean-Bernard was here instead (which was lovely, by the way...he's such a dear, even if he can't cook.) Anyhow, on Sunday, I had invited Adam over to study for resistance. I went down to the garden to let him in, and saw Isabelle outside. I said good evening, of course, and then opened the gate for Adam. When she saw him, she did not say hello. She simply said "What is he doing here?" I explained that we had a resistance class the next day, and that he had come over to study. She got a little bit irritated, and told me that I had to tell her before I had anyone over in the house. She supposed he could stay, just because he was an American friend. I have no problem with rules. I do, however, have a problem with being reprimanded for a rule that was never explained to me. Plus, how was I supposed to warn Isabelle before Adam showed up? First, I can never find her, second, there is nowhere to leave her messages, and third, she was away for a week and a half, and I didn't even know that she was back.

Anyhow, Adam and I went up to my room to study. Around 11, Jonathan peaks his head in my door to say hi, and I start to tell him about what had happened downstairs. In the middle of the conversation, while I was saying something involving the words "étrange" and "brusque," Jonathan kind of slinks out of my door. Isabelle appears. It is 11:04. She promptly tells me that Adam has to leave, and that it's the principal of the house to not have late guests. She says nothing to Adam himself, even though he was sitting right there. She also tells us that we're not allowed to have music playing, because people might be sleeping. Again, I don't mind having rules. However, when a rule is as specific as "no guests after 11:00," I really would have liked to be informed of this before! And about the music...her own children were playing percussion downstairs literally an hour before. Maybe even a half an hour before. Sheesh.

I apologized the next day, and explained that I simply did not know the rules. She didn't apologize for not having told us about the rules sooner. Oh well. Now I know. I'll just study at Adam's house from now on.

On a lighter note, Isabelle has given us fresh croissants for the last three mornings. They are divine, especially with apricot jelly. Yummm.

What else... Tuesday night was Sakinah's birthday, so she had a big bash at Cadillac Café. Literally everyone we know in France was there, plus about a million other people (it was apparently singles' night at the Cadi). It was quite the experience. I also got in a small (large) fight with Nicolas, but that's a story for another time.


(I love Sakinah. She's my homegirl.)


(Sorry about the quality of this picture. But seriously, look how many people there are at Cadillac! Goodness gracious.)


(My beautiful roommate.)

My favorite part of the night is depicted by the above picture. There is the RANDOM sculpture outside of the ramparts across the road from the Palais de Justice. It has been Shawna and my goal to take a picture with said sculpture in the middle the night. We finally realized this dream.


(The Bathroom Sent By God.)

My second part of the night was was the Bathroom Sent By God. As Jenny and I were taking the 40 minute, 2+ mile walk to Cadillac, Jenny was overcome with the urge to pee. This was about 8 minutes into the walk. And suddenly, we saw the above bathroom. It had NEVER been there before, I swear. I walk by the place at least two times a day, and I had never seen it before. It was clearly sent by God in the best interests of Jenny's bladder.

So that was Tuesday. Nothing particularly interesting happened on Wednesday. Today, our class schedule was all messed up. We didn't have resistance, because we had oral exams on Wednesday. We had four hours of oral production last Thursday, so we had four hours of written production today to make up for that. Since it was so nice outside, we got to write outside instead of staying inside. We were supposed to use our five senses to describe what we were seeing around us, and produce texts that displayed our impressions of Avignon. We walked around the city for a while taking notes, and stopped at a few beautiful places to compile our thoughts into coherent phrases. This is what I came up with:

"Quand je plisse les yeux dans le soleil brillant, il me semble que les bâtiments si forts et si vieux ne sont que du sable, et que le ciel si bleu et si pure n'est que la mer. Je ferme les yeux, et j'entends le vent. Quand je les rouvre, je m'attends à ce que les bâtiments ne soient plus carrés et que les angles ne soient plus pointus. Il ne restera que la plage..."

Translation: "When I squint my eyes in the brilliant sun, it seems to me as if the buildings so strong and old are nothing but sand, and that the sky so blue and pure is nothing but the sea. I close my eyes, and I hear wind. When I reopen them, I expect that the buildings will no longer be square and that the angles will no longer be sharp. There will only be the beach..."

"J'ouvre la bouche, et je goûte le pollen. C'est comme si j'étais en train de manger la vie elle-même. Quel beau sentiment! Mais le pollen, quand il se mélange avec l'eau dans la rue, le mélange ressemble à de l'urine. Je vois les fleurs qui viennent de ce mélange du pollen et de l'eau. Les pétales tombent, et elles ressemblent au sang sur la pelouse. C'est beau, la vie. Elle n'est que l'urine et le sang."

Translation: "I open my mouth and taste pollen. It is as if I were eating life itself. What a beautiful sentiment! But pollen, when it mixes with the water in the street, the mixture looks like urine. I see the flowers that come from this combination of pollen and water. Their petals fall, and they look like blood on the grass. It's beautiful, life. It's nothing but urine and blood."

"C'est étrange que l'endroit de la renaissance spirituelle soit si silencieux, avec l'air rance et la poussière qui bouche les poumons. Les murs sont decorés de tableaux qui représentent la naissance du Christ, sombres, et en or. Toutes les chaises sont dans une ligne. Les murs sont effrités, et les plantes sont pourriés, et il n'y a pas de penitents. L'eau bénite est protegé par des lances en or. Le Dieu te bénira, et te sauvera, dans cet endroit en train de mourir.

Translation: "It's strange that the place of spiritual rebirth is so silent, with stale air and dust that clogs the lungs. The walls are decorated with paintings that represent the birth of Christ, somber, and gold. All the chairs are in a line. The walls are crumbling, and the plants are rotting, and there aren't any penitents. The holy water is protected by golden spears. God will bless you, and save you, in this dying place."

After four hours of written production, I strolled a little among the shops with Erin before she went back to her house. I bought some post card stamps and a granny smith apple, and went to the Théatre des Halles where I made a little progress on La Silence de la Mer (my resistance reading), and got a little burnt in the sun. I returned to the house to play a little piano, lay out in the sun with Shawna, write in my French journal, and play with the dog. It truly has been a lovely day so far.

I think I'm going to take a little nap...

Much love to you all.

Today, We Saw Rocks.

Two days in a row! Woohoo! I am going to attempt to write this blog before I go to sleep (even though it's only like 6:30 in the evening).

Today was our second excursion, and as tend to be the case when I go out of Avignon, I return with lots of stories and lots of pictures.

We left Avignon this morning around 9h00 (too early!) and went by bus to Les Bories, just outside of Gordes. To be honest, I'm not totally sure why we went there, but whatever. Basically, Les Bories is a little ancient village with lots of stone huts and such. I mean, it was kind of cool to see stone huts, and there was a decent view of the valley, but there are only so many stone huts you can see before getting bored. Plus, the welcome center smelled like salted, raw meat. Thankfully, we didn't stay too long.


(See look, rocks! But a nice view behind them.)

We moved on to Gordes, and were greeted by our bestest friend in the world: La Mistral! We got off the bus at a beautiful site looking over the valley and Gordes. We walked down the valley on the most picturesque path ever. It was lined with old stone houses (complete with colorful shutters), little vineyards, flowers in full bloom, green grass, and cobblestones. I didn't think that a place as such could actually exist. It really was quite perfect (until we had to climb up the other side of the valley, at which the trek got a little more strenuous, but beautiful nevertheless). Our little promenade/hike spit us out in a touristy section of Gordes. I bought some postcards, took pictures of adorable cafes like a creeper, found a great outlook on the valley, and wandered around. We found Sakinah at one point, and she recommended that we find an outdoor market she had just come from. We took her advice, and shared a barquette of the BEST strawberries I have ever tasted. They were perfectly ripe, perfectly chilled (not cold, but not roasting in the sun), and full of flavor. We decided that it was the best euro that we had spent thus far in France.


(Gordes from afar.)


(Rachel + flowers = senior pictures all over again! Man...I wish I could have taken my senior pictures in France...that would have been awesome.)


(Picturesque path.)

Happy from our strawberry find and happy that we didn't have to re-descend and re-ascend the valley, we boarded the bus again. We drove across the valley to a nearby city, Roussillon. Even though Roussillon is relatively close to Gordes, the scenery was vastly different. Gordes had been kind of rocky, but Roussillon had gorgeous red soil. There, we visited a former ocre mine (well, mine isn't really the right word. But how do you describe "harvesting" a pigment?). Ocre was the first natural pigment widely used, and large concentrations were found close to Roussillon. Our tour guide explained that Provence was once covered by the sea, and when it retracted, it left large quantities of ocre. She explained how the laborers separated the pigment from sand, formed it into bricks, baked the bricks, and how they put the pigment to use.


(Dyes.)


(There was a random lawn covered by big colorful blocks. It was awesome.)

After our short tour, we got back on the bus to drive closer to Roussillon. If I had to describe Roussillon in one word, I would use RED. Consequently, ocre is also a red pigment (consequence? I think not). The city would have been GORGEOUS just before sunset, when everything is bathed in a golden, magical light. The entire city was kind of golden anyways, and I can only imagine what dusk-light would do to the aesthetics of the place. We got ice cream at a little shop (I had Violette...and it was amazing), and then we wandered around the city for a while. There wasn't really anything to DO, but it was nice to look at the little cafes and restaurants, peak our heads into artists' studios, lounge on stone walls, and enjoy the sun. The low point of the day was when I was attacked (yes, I'm calling it an attack) by a GIANT spider (and no, I'm not exaggerating) on my neck. Thankfully, John saved me from it. It was kind of (very) terrifying.


(Looking out from Roussillon.)


(See look, red!)


(And red rocks!)


(Beautiful day.)

We got back on the bus around 4h00, all EXHAUSTED. My bed feels like absolute heaven right now, and I'm kind of convinced that my feet are going to fall off, but it was a good day regardless. And now, it's nap time.

Oh, and public link = http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2008679&id=1417500098&l=732d31e3a5

Late Night Incoherence.

Hi! I apologize for being so incredibly absent for the last week. I was uber behind in my Resistance class all week, so I spent most of my free time working on finishing L'Armée des Ombres. Well...that's what I told myself I was doing. Somehow, the darn book is still not finished. I guess that's a job for another day.

Regardless, my Resistance class should not prevent me from updating you all on my life, so I apologize. I also apologize for the potential incoherence of this blog, as I am tired beyond functioning level. So if I don't make sense...sorry.

I am going to break this up into sections to better aid my wandering mind.

1: School.
School is going alright, I suppose. We are currently having classes in another building due to the strike and other factors, and I already miss the tiny campus of L'Université d'Avignon. The building we have classes in right now makes me feel like I'm in high school...there is no campus, few rooms, and bad heating. Throw in some squeaky chairs and it's practically DHS! As for the actual course work...it's still not too bad. We had a grammar test on Tuesday, I had a paper to write for resistance, and I had to give an oral presentation this week, but the fact that I don't have tutorial this quarter kind of makes it cake. Removing a weekly five page analytical essay from my work load my makes life infinitely better.

2: Home.
I don't know where Isabelle is. She kind of forgot to tell us. Oh well, Jean-Bernard, her ex-husband is here instead. He is completely adorable, and extremely nice to us all. He's not the best cook, but I can deal with canned ravioli for a week. In fact, I never thought I'd miss canned ravioli as much as I do! When I tasted it, it immediately made me think of the really terrible food I used to attempt to make in my microwave at OU. Oh...reminiscence.


(Sidenote: Jonathan, Natsu, Shawna, and I eat SO MUCH YOGURT! This is our accumulation of yogurt containers in like...a week and a half. We're yogurt champs.)

3: The French.
I have really been enjoying getting to know our new French friends! Shawna and I have been hanging out a lot with Nicolas, Levy, Adrien, and friends, and it's nice to have someone other than our OU friends to see. Don't get me wrong, I love the OU group, but seeing the same 20 faces every day gets old. Our Frenchies have given us the opportunity to see a few cool places that are actually outside of walking distance, like...(heaven forbid) a commercial movie theater! And a Nissan car dealer! Oh, the comforts of home. It's good to get out every once in a while. I mean, there's only so much to do within the ramparts of Avignon. Plus, Shawna and I are convinced that we learn more French with our Frenchies than we do in class. I'm considering doing like my mama did while she was living in Italy, and making a French slang/cuss word dictionary. There are just somethings that a professor won't say in class...

4: Movies.
Point number three reminded me to talk about something interesting I've found in France...films! Thursday night, Shawna and I went with Nicolas, Levy, and Adrien to see Fast and Furious 4. Personally, I think they should have stopped making the F&F movies after the first one, but whatever. It wasn't my top pick, but I'm actually strangely glad that I saw it. It was so weird to see a picture of the United States while in France. It was a really strange perspective. Certain things that i never would have given a second thought to suddenly seemed important and quite blatant. You all know how the Fast and Furious movies are; they're filled with sex, drugs, alcohol, illegal activities, macho guys, skinny girls, and general shenanigans. But I have to wonder...what do the French think of the United States? They see American films portraying the United States like Fast and Furious does, and I wonder if they actually think the country is that way. After seeing Fast and Furious, we watched The Butterfly Effect at Adrien's house. There is a part where Ashton Kutcher is a fraternity boy, and his girlfriend is a sorority girl. The movie briefly portrays a very stereotypical Greek campus - polo clad boys wandering around with bikini clad girls on their arms, expensive cars, expansive and green campuses, rampant drinking, and again, general shenanigans. Nicolas leaned over and asked "is your university like this?" Greek life doesn't really exist in France, so it was really hard to try to explain in broken French what exactly was going on. I assured Nicolas that our university was certainly NOT like the scene in The Butterfly Effect (except for sometimes on OU's South Beach on a nice day...but that's beside the point.) On a more positive note, I saw a fantastic French film tonight in an independent theater in Avignon: Coco Avant Chanel. When it comes out in the United States in like six months in independent theaters, I advice you all to see it. It was a really beautiful film about the life of Gabrielle Bonheur Chanel, the creator of the Chanel line of high fashion. Kind of sad, but very well done. Plus, Audrey Tautou (the actress who played in the well-known French film "Amélie"), was the lead, and she is quite stellar.

5: Gôuters.
Gouters (pronounced goo-ters) get their own special section. Gouters are not really pronounced like goo-ters. In fact, they're pronounced gooh-tay. They're a little French cookie sandwich with chocolate cream in between the two cookies, and they're pretty much divine. I've been gouter binging. It's kind of bad. But they're soooo yummy.

6: Wednesday.
We don't generally have class on Wednesday, but this week we had an Atelier Cuisine (cooking workshop) with one of the assistants, Katy. The group went to Les Halles (an indoor market) to buy food for and prepare our own little picnic. I was in the group that made ratatouille, and I spent most of my time chopping onions and peppers to put in the vegetable dish. Another group made pork (the first pork I've eaten in like...two months), and a third group made very delicious apple pie. We took our picnic to the Theatre des Halles, which was a gorgeous location. There, we ate our little meal, passed around a baguette, and manged on some gouters (haha, Frenglish), played on a teeter-totter that we found.


(Meghan contemplates lettuce.)


(Bread rocks my socks.)


(Erin and her ratatouille.)


(This is why I love spring so darn much!)

After lunch, Jenny, Shawna, and I climbed up to the Palais des Papes where we found a deserted lawn on the side of the hill leading down to the river. We took advantage of the beautiful day and stretched out in the sun.


(Take off your shoes, relax for a while.)


(A beautiful location on a beautiful day.)

7: La Mistral.
I might as well use my least favorite number to describe my least favorite thing of this week: the wind. The Mistral is being evil right now, and it makes the 20-30 minute walk to school even more miserable. Really...I've never seen wind this strong and persistent. It's not even bringing in any fronts or weather...it's just blowing! Sheesh. I can hear it now outside my window.

8: New shoes.
I bought new shoes today from H&M. That is all. I

Well, I can't think anymore. I have to get up early tomorrow for another excursion with the group (we're going to Bories, Gourdes, and Rousillon - three little towns near Avignon). I need sleep so badly.

I'll write soon about the excursion tomorrow!

Bonne nuit tout le monde.

Historical Roman Sights, Armani Underwear, and Rolling Down Hills = Nîmes

April 19, 2009

I can’t believe I’ve been in France for almost a month...that seriously freaks me out. Oh, how time flies. I guess I’ve just been so busy doing this and that, and traveling here and there, that I’ve forgotten to count the days and the hours until I return. But I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I’ve also been a blogging fail (sorry), but since today’s Sunday, I have a little extra time. I should be doing my Resistance paper that I’ve been putting off for over a week, but I’ll get to that a little later. For now I’ll just take some time to talk about my epic weekend (which started on Thursday, consequently).

Thursday was a normal day, for the first half. We had Written Production, which was fun as usual. We had Resistance class, and I was too tired to concentrate. The usual. There was a long break in between Resistance and Oral Production, and we just lounged around pretending to do work for a while. When we got to Oral Production, the door was locked. This is not abnormal. The latest vote from the general assembly of students is that the university will remain on strike on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Thus, all doors are locked on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and it’s hard to find someone willing and able to open them. We decided to change rooms. However, while walking across the building to the next room, we happened upon a very large demonstration happening in the lobby of the school. I couldn’t really understand what was going on, but I got the gist that a lot of people were unhappy. Our Oral Production teacher cancelled class soon after, and apparently, students were encouraged to evacuate the university. (Sidenote: mama, don’t worry...we were all safe!)



Elated with the extra time, a few of us went shopping. We popped into a few shops on our way to the Rue de la République (the main street in Avignon), and then ended up in Jennyfer, a large underground store right next to H&M. It was fun browsing around the French fashion and such. I eventually decided on a little blue dress and a yellow necklace to go with it.

I arrived home, and just before Shawna and I were getting ready to go out, Isabelle called us for dinner. She had prepared an American meal, complete with hamburgers (the most delicious I think I have ever tasted), fries, chips, salad, coke, and ice cream. We even listened to country music (I tried to explain that not all American’s like country music, but whatever.) It was a very very sweet thing for Isabelle to do. Unfortunately, our meal lasted longer than usual, and Shawna and I had to book it to Place Pie, to get their on time. Also unfortunately, there was a time miscommunication, and we ended up being 45 minutes early. As we were waiting for Adrien and Nicolas to arrive, we someone got a call from Katy. Due to student/professor unrest, classes were cancelled for the next day! General merriment ensued. Around 9h30, Adrien and Nicolas met us at Red Sky, and drove us in separate groups to a club just outside of town (near the university) called Cadillac Cafe. It was much larger than our usual hang out places, and we actually had enough room to occupy two whole booths and had a table to ourselves. We laughed, drank, talked in broken French/English, danced, and in all, had a great time.


(I don’t know what I was laughing at, and Nicolas looks hilarious. Basically, a wonderful picture.)

Cadillac Cafe closed at 1h00 in the morning, and most everybody headed home. Shawna and I, however, stayed with Adrien, Nicolas, and Levy, who took us to a discotheque down the road. It was quite intense...so many people, so much music, so much movement. Wow. It’s strange noting the differences between American dancing and French dancing...Shawna and I amused ourselves for a while imitating French dancing (I hope we didn’t insult anyone). We ended up getting home at around 4h00 in the morning. It was most fortunate that we didn’t have class in the morning!

Friday was mostly taken up with attempts to do homework (mostly failed attempts, at that), some rain, and an early bedtime. In an attempt to not make this blog a novel, I will move right on to Saturday.

Saturday, I woke up early to get ready for our planned trip to Nîmes, a Romanesque city only a half an hour by train away from Avignon. Our train pulled out at around 9h00 in the morning, and we arrived in Nîmes shortly after. Getting off the train, the first thing of mention that we saw was l’Arène de Nîmes (Nîmes Arena). I don’t remember exactly when the Arena was built, but it was once used for fighting, both between men and bull fighting. We climbed way up to the top of the Arena (it was quite the hike), where we sat in the warm sun for a while and imagined what it would be like to go to a bull fight there hundreds of years ago.


(I apologize for the quality of this picture...my camera was freaking out and was letting in much too much light, therefore washing everything out.)


(From the top of the Arena, looking out on Nîmes.)


(I should clearly be a tour guide.)

The ticket we purchased at the Arena allowed us access to two other sites in Nîmes, so we proceeded on to the next, a Pantheon-like structure (called the Maison Carrée), also dating back to the Roman period. There wasn’t a whole lot to see there, other than a very cheesy 3D movie that I’m very glad we didn’t have to pay for.


(La Maison Carrée in Nîmes).

After our unsatisfactory 3D experience, most of the group went to a nearby cafe to get some lunch. Adam and I had packed lunches of our own in the best interest of our wallets, so we sat on the steps outside of the Pantheon and ate sandwiches, avocados, and gouters (a French chocolate cookie thing...basically, amazing). While waiting, we wandered around some of the shopping district, in particular the Armani store. Adam highly highly considered buying some Armani underwear. They cost 50 euro. When we walked by the display window later and found a pair of Armani underwear that only cost 35 euro, Adam exclaimed, “They’re cheap!” At this point, we decided that our perception of reality had been permanently altered. Thirty-five euro underwear is not cheap.

We met back up with the group and wandered down to our next location, an enormous garden (Les Jardins de la Fontaine), and an outlook tower at the top of a hill (La Tour Magne). Walking there, we ran into a gorgeous canal that was running randomly through the city. It was slow moving, but the water was clear, and the canal was lined with old, green trees. At the end, a fountain was splashing. Across the canal, groups of old men were playing Petanque, an old game popular among the French (the elderly French, in particular). It was incredibly peaceful.


(Don’t you wish every city had a random canal like this?)

The canal led us to the entrance of the gardens, and upon our arrival, we were immediately stunned by the beauty. Perhaps the sun was getting to our heads, but the gardens were completely delightful. I kind of went crazy with pictures.


(The golden embellished gate to the gardens.)


(The canal, running through the gardens.)


(A view of the gardens. There was so many random statues populating the gardens, sitting stoically, watching the passerby's.)


(The flowers were in full bloom. It was gorgeous.)


(Daisies on the hill that Kyle and Jenny rolled down.)

It’s hard to describe the gardens...you’ll just have to look at all my pictures on facebook (I’ll post a link at the end of this blog).

We took a meandering path through the gardens up a hill that led us to our next destination, a watch tower called La Tour Mange. We climbed up stairs and stairs and stairs to get to the top, but it was worth it. The tower was in a very opportune place - it looked out over the entirety of Nîmes and the surrounding area. However, as we could see the rain coming from the distance, we decided to head back down the flights upon flights of spiral stairs and look for some shelter.


(La Tour Mange.)

For the rest of the day, we just milled around Nîmes. We did a little bit of shopping (which was sooo hard since I couldn’t buy anything), bought some ice cream and some crepes, and spent some time sitting in another park. We watched a little blonde boy riding around in circles and circles on a Power Ranger’s Hot Wheel’s car around a fountain, and enjoyed the sun and the good weather (it never actually rained on us). We caught our train back to Avignon with no troubles, and each went our separate ways.

Saturday night was like most Saturday nights. I went to a gathering with my correspondent (Soufiane), and Catherine, and we talked a lot with his friends. My correspondent is Moroccan, and consequently, a lot of his friends are too. It was interesting to see their perspective on France, on America, and on Americans in France. Afterwards, Catherine and I slipped out to meet our friends at Red Sky. Tired from the long day in Nîmes, we headed out around midnight, and I gladly found my bed shortly after.

Today, as I mentioned, is Sunday, and I really really really need to be productive today. I need to write an essay for my resistance class on the topic of “courage,” and I’m personally feeling somewhat cowardly about it. Oh, the irony.

Goodbye for now, all, and I hope your day is as sunny is mine is in France!

And here is the public link to my Nîmes photo album:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2008267&id=1417500098&l=83db4a2c61

Enjoy!

Life and Such

I take my Yellow Label Tea with a tiny bit of sugar and a splash of milk that doesn’t taste like that which I buy from the super market at home. When I do my homework, I sprawl out over my bed that smells like a brand of laundry detergent I cannot place. When I open my refrigerator, I find apricot jam, which I was not aware was mass produced. When I try to open my window, I have to open the shudders, and when I look out of it, I see leaves, and a gate, and a market beyond. When I write, I write in French. When I speak, I speak in French. When I read, I read in French. What is English, anyway? What is blueberry tea? What is Bounce? What is strawberry jelly. What is automatic? What is home?

So this is my life here. It really isn’t anything too special. I go from one day to the next. I take wine after my meals. I eat cheese on my bread. I wear scarves when it’s warm. I wear cardigans when it’s cold. I dance with my French friends, and know all the words to their favorite songs. I walk two miles to school everyday, but then again, so did my grandparents (or at least, that’s what they always say). I carry an umbrella in my purse. I have not driven in over a month. I have not read a word in English for a month. I can’t understand French nutrition facts. Peanut butter does not exist. I eat yogurt more than the average person. I learned that you can put strawberry and peach and raspberry syrup in beer, and it is socially acceptable. Also socially acceptable, apparently, are dogs in public. I see more dogs than people sometimes. I also smell more dogs than people, most of the time.

I live in the ghetto, but not really. The Snack Kebab that once smelled so good now only smells of urine and general human stench. I will never go through a tunnel alone again. I walk by a parking lot of prostitutes every weekend night. I have seen a prostitute. I have seen the man who just took a prostitute. I am looked at, and yelled at, and stopped on the street. I am a woman, and I am a target. When I open my mouth, I am immediately a foreigner, and I am a target. The university I attend is on strike. I walk through a blockade to get to class. My internet rarely works, and when it does, it is fickle. When I walk at night, I am scared. When I see buses, I think they are going to run over me. I recognize the homeless men who sit outside of a favorite cafe of mine. I am deathly afraid of French motorists. I watch my step to avoid feces - canine and human. I am in class up to six hours a day. My brother’s birthday is tomorrow. I will not see him. Nor will I see spring in Athens. Nor will I see the graduation of some of my best friends. Nor will I cheer on my former teammates as they run. Nor will I be able to comfort my best friends when they need a shoulder, or an ear, or a lap.

But I live in France, really. When I walk through Avignon, I smell chocolate, and I smell bread, and I smell spices. There is an H&M only a ten minute’s walk from my house. I can buy good wine, and I am beginning to learn which brands and regions I like best. I walk four miles a day, which makes me feel better about our giant nightly meals. I can take a train cheaply to all the places I’ve read about. There are lavender fields twenty minutes away from my house. My house is over two hundred years old. I speak better French every day. I have tea with my breakfast. I went to an 800 year old city last week. I got free chocolates from Joël Durand, one of which tasted like gingerbread. The sky is blue most days. I am alive. A French person did not know I was not French. I get less pity-English these days. I know my way around. My curtains are a deep orange, and in the mornings when the sun comes up, my room is cast in gold.

I miss piano, and I miss my friends. I miss hamburgers and canned ravioli, and I miss my family. I miss Athens, and I miss Kidron, and I miss Dalton, and I miss Ohio, and I miss the United States. I miss my home.

But I hear violin most mornings thanks to my host sister Marie. I’m making new friends here. I have visited Montpelier, and Baux de Provence, and St. Rémy de Provence, and the Mediterranean Sea. I am going to Nîmes next week, and after that, London, and maybe Morocco, and maybe Prague, and Brussels, and Aix en Provence, and Arles, and Marseilles. I am starting to have my own family here. France could become a home.

So this is my life here. I go from one day to the next.

No, This Is Not Real.

Happy Easter! Never have I ever been more comforted by a few chocolate eggs lying outside of my door. The Easter Bunny still comes in France! =] Basically, awesome.

So, I have been a blog fail lately and I haven't posted anything since Wednesday. I will try my best to catch up.

Thursday, nothing of consequence really happened. There was school, dinner, Red Sky, etc. Pretty much the usual.

Friday started off as most Fridays do...slowly, and with class. It's uber hard to sit through four hours of history and literature on a beautiful Friday. Friday night was a relatively quiet one...I just went over to Adam and Kyle's house to watch Across the Universe. The walk home from their house, however, was terrifying. I had to walk by the prostitute vans, and I saw a real live prostitute, and a real live man who had just come from her door. *shudder* Plus, I had to walk by Snack Kebab all by myself. Jenny, the Graduate Assistant on this trip, and I had a long conversation about this, actually. Please, someone explain to me why men feel the need to yell at women on the street? What do they think they are going to achieve? Is it like some weird misogynistic pleasure? Really, it's obnoxious, and I've found that it's much more prevalent in France. No, I am not flattered. I feel degraded. I got off topic, I apologize. So that was Friday.

Oh, and Friday was finally my laundry day! Basically, Christmas. Unfortunately, only half of my clothes have returned (and my underwear and socks are in the second MIA half. *sigh*)

Saturday, I had to wake up far too early. Shawna and I left the house at around 8:00 in the morning so we could stop by the market before getting on the bus for our first excursion with the OU group. Oh, how I've missed markets. There's nothing better than the smell of fresh fruit and vegetables on a misty morning. I could deal without the butcher vans with pounds and pounds of bloody animal...BUT other than that it was really nice. I bought some strawberries. I later ate them...all. Well not all of them, but a large portion. They were SO yummy. I think strawberries are better in France...just saying. Goodness, I got off topic again.

Anyhow, allow me to describe Excursion #1. First we took the bus up a long and twisty road to Baux de Provence, a tiny tiny village on top of a very large hill. At the very top of the hill there is an ancient settlement. I failed at listening to the audio guide thing after like #2, so I really can't relay that much information. I can, however, tell you that it offered a wonderful view of the French country side. Unfortunately, it was really cold and windy and rainy, and my pictures reflect the bad lighting, but oh well. You can imagine how it would look on a sunny day.


French countryside.


I took this for my mama...she loves flowers. =]


More French countryside...and more flowers!


This is a snail. When Kyle and I found him, we were incredibly excited, so we took pictures. Later, as we were walking back into town, I murdered a snail by stepping on it. I screamed. I killed this poor snail's relative. =[

After walking around the old ramparts and stone buildings for about an hour, we sat down to watch a catapult presentation. We decided that war must have taken an extremely long time in the Middle Ages.

Although Baux de Provence was interesting and very beautiful, it was freezing, and we wanted shelter from the wind. We descended down into the town and walked around for a little bit, mostly to find some Fanta, which Sakinah was craving. A little while after, the group walked down the road a while to something called the Cathédrale d'Images. Annoyed about the rain and shivering under my coat, I wasn't that optimistic when we first entered, but I was completely surprised. Allow me to explain a little about the Cathédrale. Basically, there is this giant old, empty cathedral. All the walls are bare, and there are no rooms, just very large winding halls and crevices with extremely high ceilings. Essentially, it has become an art museum. Each year, an artist is chosen, and a program is constructed. Last year it was Van Gogh, and this year it's Picasso. The artist's paintings are projected on the walls of the empty cathedral, and set to music. They are constantly shifting and moving. Really, it's incredible. Imagine walking through a huge labyrinth with giant Picasso paintings on all sides: on the floor, on the walls, on the ceiling, all swirling around you in a beautiful mess of colors. Very very very awesome. My pictures certainly don't do justice to the experience.


Cathédrale d'Images


Blue!


Red!


Picasso paintings swirling on the floor.

After an hour at the Cathédrale, we got back on the bus for a short trip to St. Rémy de Provence. Essentially, it was a chocolate stop. Joël Durand (an apparently famous chocolate maker) has a shop in St. Rémy, and we crowded into the small store for free samples and, inevitably, some chocolate of our own. Unfortunately, Catherine and I were in the back of the line, and everyone went back to the bus before we had been helped. Since Catherine and I are so remarkably intelligent, we managed to get lost on the way back to the bus (one wrong turn makes such a difference). And then it started raining. Down pouring, rather. I forgot my umbrella on the bus. FML. After some French directions and a few phone calls, we found our way back, and got on the bus like wet dogs. Go us. At least we had chocolate.


Always remember, chocolate = love.

Saturday night was as most Saturday nights are: awesome. We had dinner with our host dad (for the first time...which is actually an awkward story that I don't really want to put on blogspot. I'll tell you if you want me to, though). Afterwards, Jenny and I walked to Red Sky to meet up with Adam, Sakinah, Katie, and Kyle, and later Catherine and Kristina (and their host brother, Paul). Around midnight, we got up the urge to go dancing. We walked down the street a bit to Red Zone, and stayed their until three. Yes, it was sweaty, and yes, I lost my favorite cardigan (actually, I'm way depressed about that), but it was SO much fun. Something about the French techno trippy music and the atmosphere and the lights that completely eliminated all inhibitions, and we all danced like it was our job.

The walk home was not as good (but I won't get into that on here either...it's not my place to talk about it). All I can say is that I'm glad I'm Shawna's friend, and I'm glad Jenny is so caring.

I went to bed about seven hours ago, around five, and now I'm awake again, blogging. Go me! I think I might be going to Arles today with Kyle, so I should probably get on that whole productivity thing. Again, Happy Easter to you all! I hope the Easter Bunny brings you yummy chocolate. =]

April 8, 2009

Wednesdays are wonderful days, and America should take notice. It’s so nice to be able to stay out late on Tuesday nights, to sleep in late in Wednesday mornings, to rest in bed and blog while eating some yogurt and tea. Wednesdays, usually a relatively mediocre middle of the week slump, has taken on a new meaning.

As today is Wednesday, and as I have my bedside tea all ready, I thought now would be a good time to blog. So blog I will.

I think I last left off by talking about my Saturday adventures with Shawna and Jonathan in Montpellier. Sunday was an equally lovely day. We planned a picnic at the Palais des Papes, and just sat around reading in the sun. Marcel Pagnol is so much more of an agreeable playwright when he can be read while lying in the grass. Upon arriving home, Isabelle had an early dinner together. I’ve come to the conclusion that Sunday is her sugar day...we had an assortment of little cakes, cut strawberries on top of a flaky crust with cream, hot chocolate...etc. Shawna and I thought we were going to die of sugar consumption. After dinner, Isabelle asked that we help Marie with her English homework...it was quite an interesting experience! First of all, Marie is a little genius, I swear. Her English abilities, at the age of 13, far surpassed anything I learned even in high school. It was really interesting to see the mistakes she made. For example, she used an abnormal amount of articles in inappropriate locations. At first I found it strange, as I was reading her sentences from an English standpoint. In trying to explain to her why you can’t say “a birds,” however, I figured out just why she used so many articles. In French, there are very very few times when you don’t use articles in front of a noun. I don’t know why this is the case, but Marie was apparently applying this same concept to English. It was a little linguistic nerd moment, but I really had fun helping her.

Monday we started our second week of class. There’s nothing too spectacular to note on that. We did, however, get to watch Lucie Aubrac, a French film about a WWII French Resistance heroine, Lucie Aubrac. We had just finished reading a novel written by her, so it was only appropriate that we watch the movie based off of her life. We had watched the film at some point in high school, but I don’t remember the historical context being explained to us. Understanding the context made the film much more enjoyable and informative, and reinforced M. Boury’s (our literature professor) favorite phrase: “Il n’y a jamais de texte sans contexte” (there is never text without context). I know some literary theorists that would disagree (*sigh*), but I completely subscribe to Boury’s concept.

The walk to school was overcast on Tuesday, but I personally find rainy days much more suitable to hours of class. Tuesday is our obnoxiously long day. We have class from 9 in the morning until 5:30 at night. Compared to my OU schedule, this totally sucks. The day starts with grammar, and then after only a short break, we have to go straight to M. Boura for history. M. Boura, although he is incredibly intelligent, an expert in his field, and a quite sweet man, is not exactly the best teacher for international students. I do think he is getting a little better, though. He used less words that I don’t even know how to define in English, actually asked for student feedback, and kind of gave us an outline. This is an improvement. I personally feel awful for history professors. In a weird way, they make me think of dentists. Although dentists have achieved a high college degree, are skilled in their work, and deserve respect, absolutely no one wants to go see them. M. Boura, and many history professors, must experience this same syndrome. And really, it must be depressing. The difference between dentists and history professors, however, is that I cannot doodle in the dentist’s chair.

We have a break after history (thank heavens) to catch our breaths and stretch our legs. Most of my break was taken up with vending machine coffee, steak-frites with Kyle, and a jaunt to the ATM. Oh, and rain. It wasn’t exactly the most refreshing break. Thankfully, I really enjoy literature, so it wasn’t too terrible to sit through two more hours of class. Tuesday, we talked about Honoré de Balzac, one of the most prolific authors ever (excuse me while I have a literature nerd moment). Balzac was born of a Bourgeois family, and, according to his mother, should have been a notary, as it was a very profitable position. Balzac, apparently, said no. Instead, he produced 137 books of roughly 300 pages each in a grand total of 30 years. Dying of a heart attack at the age of 51, he in effect killed himself with his ardent work. What we have left of Balzac is his enormous literary output, a sculpture by Rodin, over 2000 characters, and the genre of realistic fiction, which he invented and popularized.

Nothing worth mentioning really happened between literature and 9:30, other than a giant dinner (as usual). After dinner, Thomas invited Shawna and me to play a game with him. We agreed. We ended up playing an absolutely hilarious game (whose name I cannot remember). I lost. Miserably. But that’s alright...it was still nice to get to hang out with the kids and have them explain the rules to the game in French that we would understand. Around 9:30, Shawna and I met up with Jenny and walked to Red Sky, one of our new favorite Avignon locations. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love my OU friends and I’m very blessed to have close friends here, but I am in France to learn French. I’ve found that on many of our little soirées, a many of the OU students sit in our little OU student circle, speaking English to each other over a beer or a cocktail. That’s stellar, but that could be done essentially anywhere (minus the beer or cocktail in America, as most of us are under 21). My favorite part about going out in Avignon is talking to the French...in French. It’s Tuesday nights or weekends when I find myself speaking and learning the most French, not in grammar class, nor in literature class, nor even oral production class (in which I have only said one or two sentences aloud).

Getting this amount of practice on my own makes me really look forward to my time in Belgium, where I’ll essentially be alone a lot of the time. Well, I’ll have Bernard and family of course, but I won’t have the OU bubble that so often is hindering to the whole language practice thing. If we could all speak French to each other all of the time, we would be champs at French upon our return to the United States. Unfortunately, after six hours of class and with brains crammed with details about the Jeanne d’Arc and Balzac and lessons in indirect discourse, we just aren’t that motivated. I must say, however, that Shawna and I spoke exclusively in French on our thirty minute walk to class Tuesday morning. We were proud. Eight and a half hours later, however, we couldn’t find it within ourselves to take the return trip in the same fashion.

Eh, I got off topic. That’s alright, there’s nothing else really to say about my little daily adventures. However, as today is Wednesday, perhaps I’ll return tomorrow to write about some new ones! =] Enjoy your day! (And I’m sorry for all you who have snow. It is 65 degrees. And sunny.)

April 4, 2009 BLOG

Hello world. I hope the past week has been spectacular for you all!

As for me, I am remarkably glad that this week is over...not because anything traumatic or bad happened, but simply because I’m so darn exhausted! Classes are so much harder when taught exclusively in a foreign language. I’ve always been one to listen to what’s going on in the background while doodling or something, but that just doesn’t work here. Since the language being used is relatively technical, I actually have to pay attention let I get lost in the shuffle of words I only know in context. Simply living life is difficult too. Easy tasks like...buying grapefruit, or a blueberry muffin for instance, become infinitely harder when you realize you have no idea what the word for blueberry is in French. *sigh* All in all, however, it was a good week.

The last I wrote was Thursday I think, so I’ll start with Friday.

Nothing particularly interesting happened during the day on Friday, other than class (not that that’s particularly interesting). In History, I’m not entirely what we talked about (as usual), but Literature was a pretty good. We discussed the origins of Marseille (it’s 2650 years old) and the Greek-esque myth that goes along with its foundation. Our discussion on Marseille was a lead-up to a discussion on Alexandre Dumas (author of The Count of Monte Cristo, The Three Musketeers, etc).

An interesting sidenote: Friday in Literature class, we truly felt the effects of the University strike. I may not have mentioned this, but the University is currently on strike. The French president is trying to make educational “reforms” which totally suck, and as a result, many French institutions of higher learning have been on strike for the last two months. As International students, we haven’t been much affected by the strike. However, on Friday, Literature started nearly a half an hour late because our room was in “shambles.” First, we could not get into the room because it was locked. Then, we couldn’t find anyone that had a key. When we finally got in, all the desks and chairs were in a pile in the center of the room. Then there was no chalk. Basically, fail.

Friday night the OU students had a rendez-vous with our French correspondents. The correspondent program is incredibly poorly organized (as I’ve found many things about the Avignon program), so I had no idea if my correspondent would show up. It turned up that Soufiane did end up coming with a few friends, about an hour or so. No matter, at least he came. He turned out to be really nice, and we spoke for like an hour (entirely in French! Go me!) It was a really enjoyable evening. Most of the OU students were there (at the Red Sky pub), and even if our correspondents weren’t there, we had fun together. Before Soufiane arrived, I had a really good time chatting with other students’ correspondents. Interestingly enough, a lot of them said that I have a somewhat Canadian accent. I say “zut” to that...and I blame my numerous French Canadian professors. By the end of the program, it will be interesting to see what kind of strange accent I have...American + Canadian + Southern French + Belgian = something only I could vocalize. *le souffle* (or, in Frenglish, *le sigh*).

About five and a half hours after returning to my house with Shawna, we had to get up again (funny sidenote for all you French-speakers: I just accidentally typed “retourning”. Wow. French is getting to me.) Our Swedish housemate, Jonathan, had invited us both to come with him to Montpelier this Saturday. He is a part of an International Exchange program, and they do various activities throughout the semester. Since OU is so disparate from the rest of the international student program at l’Université d’Avignon (je sais pas pourquoi), we had no idea that an International Exchange program even existed. Thanks to Jonathan, however, Shawna and I got to go to Montpelier for only 10 euros Saturday. We left the university at about 8:30 in the morning, and arrived just outside of Montpelier at around 10, where we went to a zoo. Shawna and I considered it a little lesson in all the animal vocabulary we had learned in high school, but forgotten (God, I just typed “lecon.” FMV/L.) It really was pleasant. Plus, it was GORGEOUS on Saturday in Montpelier (which is right next to the Mediterranean Sea).

After re-learning the French words for monkeys, horses, donkeys, ducks, lions, bears, and other random animals, we got back on the bus to head to the beach, our lunch destination. We had brought a picnic lunch, and we got to eat our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and fruit on the shore of the Mediterranean Sea (jealousy ensues now). The next few hours were spent looking for sea shells (I still don’t know this word in French), skipping rocks (yes Mama, that was for you), making mini sand castles, and lounging on the sand. Sandy and warm, we got back on the bus to travel into the city.



The Mediterranean Sea!



Most unfortunately, Jonathan had managed to fall at some point while leaving the beach, and by the time we got to Centre Ville in Montpelier, he could no longer move his elbow. He and his friend Utah (yes, that’s his name...he’s Japanese) split off from Shawna and I to go to the doctor. Meanwhile, Shawna and I wandered around the city. On the main street, there was absolutely incredible shopping. It really is miraculous that I didn’t spend a giant amount of money. Shawna and I found an amazing boutique called “Des Filles à la Vanille” (Vanilla Girls), and we completely fell in love. It was the most overwhelmingly adorable shop I’ve ever been in. If I could redo my entire wardrobe simply from that store, I probably would. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, so Shawna and I just savored the fashion (we actually went in twice, just because we wanted to look around again). We got ourselves a little lost at one point, but we found ourselves thanks to the loud sounds of a live concert going on in Place de la Comédie. Although beautiful, it was an overwhelmingly bustling city. Everywhere we looked, there was a boutique, or a store, or a street performer, etc. People had completely taken over the main street, and seeing a car actually silly enough to attempt to permeate the pedestrian traffic was quite rare. To get away from the people, Shawna and I bought some really yummy gelato (Mint Chocolate Chip for me, Cookie Dough for Shawna), some pain au chocolate (basically, chocolate bread), and a blueberry muffin, and took some repose in a lovely park just outside the arch that led to Centre Ville.

The park was, in a word, surreal. I simply couldn’t believe that something that lovely really existed. It was by no means empty, but not busy. There were four long rows of perfectly trimmed trees, blooming tulips and other perennials, a huge statue of a man on a horse (I do not recall said man’s name), and three beautiful landscape views of the surrounding city. The park was populated by several groups quietly playing acoustic guitar, street performers practicing their juggling, couples cuddling on benches, friends chatting, little dogs chasing each other around, and quiet groups of townspeople strolling through. Really, I didn’t know that places like that actually existed. It didn’t have at all a touristy air, and it was just a very pleasant place to sit and eat some ice cream and take advantage of the warm Mediterranean sun.



Montpelier.

The group regathered at around 7, and poor Jonathan arrived with a sling and a cast. In his fall, he had fractured a bone in his upper arm (poor thing!). I didn’t exactly catch why, but the bus was apparently at a different location than where we gathered. We ended up walking back through Centre Ville (for like the third time) and to the other side of town where the bus was waiting for us. We arrived back in Avignon around 9, completely exhausted. The walk from the university to our house (about a 25-30 minute walk) seemed SO long, but Jonathan, Shawna, and I all agreed that it was a very very fun day.

Again, another sidenote. Prostitution in Avignon. I might have mentioned this (or maybe not), but I live in a somewhat shady section of Avignon. I mean, it’s not like I hear gunshots outside my window and fear for my life every time I go outside, but it is a neighborhood outside of the city walls, therefore slightly less safe. Avignon is a walled city, ça veut dire, the entire Centre Ville is enclosed by large ramparts with large arching entryways. When the ramparts were built, it was a method of protection (as they were constructed before canons were readily used in combat). Today, the walls really serve no purpose, other than to distinguish between the “Interior” and the “Exterior” sections of the city. Just outside of the walls are lots of little parking lots. Keep in mind that these are not American parking lots...American parking lots are relatively orderly. French parking lots, apparently, are not. Each morning on our way to school, Shawna and I have to walk through lots and lots and lots of these somewhat unsightly parking lots. It’s kind of a terrifying experience (I think I may have mentioned previously my fear of French drivers. This fear is exemplified in French parking lots. Again *le sigh*.) Anyhow, prostitution in Avignon. Each night, and even more on weekend nights, a small brigade of white vans appear. To an unobservant passerby, this might not look like anything at all. My British friend Emma, upon arriving in Avignon, had wondered “why are there so many people that camp in the parking lots?” These are not campers. These are, in effect, prostitution camps. Yes, Avignon has its own little red light district. As much as this is kind of creepy to have to walk by/through (depending on the side of the street), it is also incredibly sad. Shawna told me that the other night she saw one of the vans whose curtians were not drawn (aka: not occupied). She saw a young woman sitting there, and she said her heart completely dropped. It really is awful...I’m sure these young woman do not want to be in this position. It’s defiling and debasing, and they know it.

Well...I know that prostitution in Avignon is a slightly awkward place to leave off, but I don’t have anything else to say as of now. Again, I hope you are all enjoying your weekend as much as I am! Bisous.

Peanut Butter Made My Day.

April 2, 2009

Hello, world! My second day in a row blogging...go me! Where should I begin...I guess where I left off would be a good place, huh?

Well, Wednesday night. After last blogging, I kind of failed at actually reading. I instead played Snake (like the old school game) online for a while and then Adam called me, wanting to see if I still wanted to hang out. Of course I said yes. I was getting absolutely nothing done in my room, so Adam, Sakinah, Kyle, Katie, and I all went to O’Neil’s. We only had one or two major language screw ups (one of which caused the waiter to completely ignore us for a time). No matter, we still had a good time. I laughed harder than I have in a LONG time (thank you, Kyle). This week has been relatively stressful with classes and homework and adjusting to the culture, and a night of laughter was much needed.
In addition to the healing laughter, I can’t help but mention the Belgians who brought quite the smile to my face as well. A group of Belgians had for some reason decided to take their holiday in Avignon, and they were all dancing the night away at O’Neil’s. Someone (Katie originally, I think, and then Adam) struck up a conversation with them, and we spent a lot of the evening talking with them. One thing that Avignon has truly afforded me is the opportunity to speak with people my age from other cultures. I know that sounds kind of silly, but it’s been one of my favorite parts about Europe thus far. I love hearing what they have to say about America. Much to my surprise, it hasn’t been quite as negative as I had expected. Contrary to “Culture Shock!”, I have had no drunken men come up to me and personally blame me for the world economic situation simply because I’m American. Again, “Culture Shock!” lied. Anyhow, I have gotten an abnormal amount of references to the show “Friends” due to my name. The Belgians were delighted when they found out my name was Rachel Grimm, which is remarkably similar to Rachel Green. Who knew?



One of my new Belgian friends (whose name has completely escaped me...) Adam and I affectionately call him “The Pretty One.”

We had such a good time last night chatting with the Belgians (and thanks to Katie’s not-so-mysterious disappearance) that we ended up staying up way later than we had originally planned. No, matter though. Walking with Adam and Katie through Avignon at night was wonderful. It’s such a peaceful, beautiful city, and I’m so glad I’m here.



Avignon at night.

Only a few hours later, I had to wake up for class (oh mon dieu!). Fortunately, I have become quite accustomed to working off of little sleep, so I was totally fine (well, I was fine after I had my coffee). This morning we started our writing class with Mme. Mathis...and I absolutely adored it. We wrote an acrostic poem (un accrostiche) with our names, and then an “I Like” piece. I know it sounds really elementary, but it was much more difficult in French. Plus, it’s nice to be able to write something that doesn’t involve intense analyses (cough*RenaissanceLiteratureTutorialPapers*cough).
Allow me to give you a brief sample (for those of you that can read it).

Moi, j’aime les nocturnes de Chopin, et ceux qui les jouent bien.
J’aime jouer du piano toute seule, sans auditoire, dans une grande salle qui produit des echoes.
J’aime les romans de Virginia Woolf, et Virginia Woolf elle-même, même sa dépression, et même sa mort.
J’aime écouter la musique si forte que je ne me souviens plus de mes pensées et de mes inquietudes.
J’aime voyager, et j’aime revenir.
J’aime le café fort, et le thé amer, et les chansons tristes, et les musiciens qui savent plus que moi, donc, les musiciens qui sont souvent déprimés.

Mais moi, je n’aime pas la viande saignante, et je n’aime pas les boissons chaudes qui sont devenues froides.
Je n’aime pas les ppoliticiens qui parlent toujours, mais ne disent rien.
Je n’aime pas les gens qui vivent sans aucunne pensée de leurs actions.
Je n’aime pas le camembert, ni la poussière, ni les moustiques.
Je n’aime pas les émissions de réalité, et je n’aime pas regarder les vies superficielles d’Hollywood.

And it goes on. Anyhow, as you can see, it was an enjoyable prompt. I felt like I was in junior high Enriched Reading again (awesome class).
Lunch was next, the the Resistance class, then Oral Production (which was a little intimidating, but not bad. Shawna and I returned to a very lovely dinner and Isabelle surprised us with little gifts! She bought us each a big piece of white chocolate nugget, some caramel popcorn, a little book of French tongue twisters (hilarious), and...PEANUT BUTTER! Strangely enough, Shawna and I were literally just talking about peanut butter on our walk home. And voila, Isabelle arrived at the table with peanut butter. It was divine. In thanks to Isabelle, Shawna and I decided it would be a good time to present our own gifts. I’m not going to lie...it was way awkward. But at least it’s now done and over with! Overall, it was a good day. I learned the difference between “baiser” and “embrasser” in French today (look that up), and I got some free peanut butter! I’d call today a success.

I feel like a kindergardener on her first week of school.

April 1, 2009

Excuse my absence from the blogging world for the last few days. Unfortunately, my little Spring Break came to a close, and I actually had to go to class on Monday. Hence, my time has been taken up primarily by actual schoolwork. Ew.
As it is a new quarter, I suppose I’ll talk a little about my classes.

1: Grammar.
Believe it or not, grammar is not that bad. In fact, it’s kind of easy (which is great). Right now we’re learning about the difference between direct and indirect discourse in French and how to transpose the two. That sounds hard, but it isn’t. Plus, M. Corbin is very patient with bad grammar. We’re also reading a series of plays by Marcel Pagnol, a Provencal playwright. I’ve only read like 60 pages of the first play, so I can’t really say anything about that, but so far what I’ve read has been remotely enjoyable (unlike last quarter’s Volkswagen Blues).

2: Resistance.
I’m taking a class completely dedicated to the French resistance in World War II against the Nazi occupation of France. Thus far it’s been quite interesting. We talked a bit about the psychology of submission to authority, and we’re reading a book by Lucie Aubrac, a WWII French resistant.

3: History.
FML. History kind of sucks. It’s very difficult to understand his train of thought, especially when he’s speaking quickly with a Marseille accent. Maybe it will get better? Hopefully? If not, at least my doodling skills will improve.

4: Literature.
I am a nerd, and I actually really enjoyed Literature. We talked a lot about Charles Baudelaire (M. Boury’s fav. author) and the historical context in which he wrote. I don’t know how much I would have enjoyed the class if I weren’t a literature nerd, but I definitely enjoyed talking about Baudelaire’s “Le Vin” for two hours. It’s kind of hard to express symbolism when you don’t know the vocabulary in French, but I’m hoping that will get better.

5: Oral and Written Production.
I can’t say a thing about this class. I have not yet taken it.

Er, that’s all for my classes. I guess I’ll give you all more details when I myself know them. In the meantime, I’ll talk a little about my week thus far.
Monday, after slowly dragging ourselves out of bed, Shawna and I took the 25 minute walk to school. Fortunately, there were no major accidents and we did not get lost. Altogether, it was a success. We joined the rest of the Avignon group for an apperitif (a luncheon with wine, basically) before class. For some of the group, having wine before grammar was not necessarily the best idea. Fortunately, no major faux pas were made, and we made it through the first day of classes without any serious problems. Oh, interesting side note (well, it’s not exactly a side note...it’s actually relatively pertinent). L’Université d’Avignon is currently on strike. That doesn’t affect the international students, but the remainder of the actually French students have not had classes for nearly nine weeks. Certain doors are blocked off, classrooms are locked, technology doesn’t all work, and a lot of university services are closed. Like I said, the strike doesn’t directly affect international students, but it’s still very interesting to see how it’s all working out.
Tuesday started much the same was as Monday. Shawna and I took the same long walk, but this time at 8:30 in the morning. At least it wasn’t raining. Tuesday’s class load is completely overwhelming. We have two hours each of grammar, history, and literature, all taught entirely in French. M. Corbin and M. Boury understand that we are international students and speak appropriately, but M. Boura (our history prof) apparently did not understand that. It was entirely exhausting. Fortunately, it was a lovely day on Tuesday. We had a bit of a break (a much needed one) in between history and literature, and we all sat outside chatting, doing homework, and enjoying the sunshine. Since we don’t have class Wednesdays, we of course decided to get together on Tuesday night. I won’t go into detail, but it was an enjoyable evening, and a wonderful first Tuesday.


OU friends (and Jonathan, my Swedish housemate, hiding in the corner by Shawna)!

Wednesday morning (this morning) I woke up to rain, and again, Shawna and I had to walk in it. Although we don’t have class on Wednesdays, we did have a guided tour of the Palais des Papes (the Pope’s Palace). In the late 13th and early 14th century, Avignon was home to nine popes. Starting at the end of the 13th century, Rome was facing a significant amount of turmoil. In an attempt to get away from Rome (and also as a diplomatic gesture), the first “Pope of Avignon” moved to Avignon. As it were, nine popes in a period of nearly 100 years became “Popes of Avignon.” The third and fourth Popes of Avignon had the Palais constructed beginning in 1335. Despite the fact that the Palais is the largest Gothic structure in the world, its construction only took 18 years. For comparison, Notre Dame in Paris took over 100 years to complete. Relatively speaking, 18 years is a very short time, especially given the size of the Palais. At the beginning of the 15th century, order had been restored in Rome, and there were no more Popes of Avignon. However, the Palais remained a very diplomatic location and until 1789 was technically the property of the Pope and the Catholic Church. Because of this, it was very influential to all French churches, and often considered the religious center of France. Our tour took us through certain parts of the enormous palace, including several banquet halls, the Pope’s bedroom, the Pope’s personal study, one of the several kitchens, and other rooms. Unfortunately, much of the interior of the Palais was severely damaged in the French Revolution as it was seen as a symbol of absolute power. (Side note: due to the pillaging of the French Revolution, many sculpted door decorations were decapitated. I found this relatively humorous). The Palais was further damaged as it was used as French barracks in the late 18th and 19th centuries. Today, the interior of the Palais is quite bare, but it was interesting to see certain tiles and frescos that still remain.


Le Palais des Papes.


(Déjà.)


A view to the North (I think) of the city.


Avignon, je t'adore.

Our tour next led us the the Pont d’Avignon (the bridge of Avignon). The bridge was constructed in the 12th century and served as the only connection between the Mediterranean Sea and Provence and France (at that time, Provence and France were two separate kingdoms). The Pont is known for two reasons; 1: for one reason or another, many popular French songs have been composed about the Pont, and 2: it stops in the middle of the river without connecting to the other side.


Le Pont d'Avignon.

After our tour we were starving, so we headed back to the Rue de la République to find some food. Adam and I stopped at this little place on the Rue Rouge where I ate a spectacular and greasy cheese crepe. I will definitely return. Adam, Sakinah, Katie, Catherine, Kyle, and I ate like hobos, sitting on doorsteps on the street. Our yummy lunch was definitely worth it, though.


Sakinah et Kyle mangent.

After lunch, we went separate ways. While the rest of the group napped, I attempted to be a good student and do some reading for my Resistance class. I did end up doing some reading, but only after a significant amount of people watching and a short walk to find a market where I could buy a grape fruit (I was craving grape fruit...I ended up buying two). Eventually, I got a little chilly from sitting out in the park, so I walked back to my house, encountering Shawna and Jonathan on the way. So here I am, again avoiding my reading. Before dinner, I should probably try to get some of that done (as it is due tomorrow...). Ciao!