I sat down to read some BBC news while eating my baguette sandwich today before heading out to Lyon, and a few of the articles really caught my attention.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/8027884.stm < article
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/in_pictures/8028861.stm < photos
Today is, as you all know, May Day. The first of May has much different connotations in France than it does in the United States. May Day is similar to Labour Day, but unlike in the US, May Day is very much a political holiday. As the BBC article explained, the French have become increasingly angry about recent economic woes. The May Day holiday only fuels these angry sentiments. According to BBC, demonstrations and protests have popped up all over the country. As one Parisian student was quoted saying, they want their voices to be HEARD.
Now, we're all American citizens. We respect our government, and our democracy, and our respective "voice" in the government. However, when I was living in the United States, I really didn't feel like I had that much of a true political voice. Yes, I voted, and yes, I got into one or two political scuffles with some of my more conservative neighbors, but other than that, I really didn't feel as though I was politically active. In Athens, I could hide. I read the news that reported on celebrity eating habits as much as Obama's administration. I watched the news with Kelsey once or twice. But for the most part, I was sucked up into an intellectual world. Spenser, who died four centuries ago, was more important that the economic crisis. I spent more time analyzing the gender issues of Rosalind/Ganymede in Shakespeare's "As You Like It" than looking about reports about Proposition 8. Of course I care about the economic crisis, and of course I care about homosexual rights, but in the face of a difficult political situation, it was so easy to slink into the confines of the library.
Here, I can't hide. When I go to school in the morning, I have to break through a blockade of students protesting Sarkozy's new educational policies. They have been on strike for nearly three months. I actually see people...significant amounts of people...protesting and demonstrating. People often joke that the French function politically through strikes...and it's kind of true. It's somewhat irritating that all our classroom doors are locked, and it's kind of scary that actual violence went down a few weeks ago on campus, but at least they're DOING something. They're raising their voices against Sarkozy, even though it poses an actual threat to their education and their livelihood.
The situation here is somewhat reminiscent of the 60s and early 70s, when students across the country demonstrated and protested against the war. Certain scenes from Across the Universe come to mind, actually. Ohio University itself was one of the most vocal campuses in the state. I've seen pictures and footage from the early 70s in Athens (my Aunt Nancy was even in one of the videos!). It was a scary and tumultuous time, but at least the students were moving, and thinking, and speaking. Where has that gone?
Of course there are political groups on campus, and sometimes demonstrations outside of the courthouse. While walking to Donkey one day I was handed a little flier about Proposition 8. I promptly lost it.
Please understand, I'm not trying to say that France's political scene is better than the United States'. Actually, French politics are kind of (quite) chaotic. I just wanted to point out that, although it's scary, we need to have a voice again! Maybe that won't come in the form of a strike or a protest. Maybe it will just be in the form of a simple conversation.
Oh, I beseech you...PLEASE stop posting close-minded, one-sided political rants on Facebook. They accomplish nothing, and they only serve to unnecessarily anger your friends. Just as I hid in the forest of Shakespeare's "As You Like It" or in the back room of Donkey, posting those types of notes on Facebook is hiding just the same. If you have something to say, by all means, say it. But PLEASE, don't forget to listen too.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Thursday, April 30, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
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
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
Friday, April 24, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
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!
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!
Friday, April 17, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
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. =]
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. =]
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