7.23.2007
One more week. Classes went by relatively quickly this morning; that is to say I wasn’t looking at my watch every five minutes. For lunch, I went to a restaurant I’ve wanted to try for quite some time. It’s kind of like a tapas restaurant, except French-style. I had chèvre with an aubergine caviar and some sautéed vegetables, completed with a nice glass of red wine. In the afternoon, I sat in the park and finished reading my last play. A little old lady came over and sat next to me. We had a little conversation, to the best of my language abilities, and I think she was very glad to have someone to talk to.
This evening was the night I had reservations for Le Roi Lear (King Lear), and so did, coincidentally, Françoise. It was in the Cour d’Honneur at the Palais des Papes, so I walked there and back with her and her friends. I was very much looking forward to seeing a performance on that gargantuan stage! Right before the show was supposed to start, though, it started to rain. I couldn’t help but think that if only we were in the Amphitheatre in Arles during the Roman ages, they could have just covered the whole courtyard with a giant tarp! Nonetheless, they waited out the rain, and an hour later, the stage was mopped and everyone was re-seated. I had much difficulty following the play because I am not familiar with the story in English. The first half was extraordinarily long. After a while, I was too tired to try and make sense of the language, so I instead observed the incredible technical and artistic aspects. They had a raked stage with all kinds of trap doors. As the play progressed and the king became more and more crazy, the stage broke into moveable pieces that drifted further and further apart. At one point, a stray cat came wandering across the stage! I started laughing because I thought that only happened at the BHP! Intermission finally came at around 1 am, and three of the students I was with left, leaving only Jessie and I—the hard-core theatre geeks. Fortunately, the second half wasn’t as long as the first, and it was full of stimulating combat scenes. I ended up getting back to the apartment at 3:30 am, but it was SO worth it. What an incredible experience to be able to see this first-rate production in the Palais des Papes! And the fact that my ticket was 13 euros blows my mind. Too bad I have class tomorrow at 9 am. We’ll see if I wake up on time…
7.24.2007
I did, indeed, make it to class this morning on time. Thanks to coffee and adrenaline, I felt pretty darn good! The only sign of my 4 hours of sleep, as my parents pointed out when I video-phoned them, was the huge bags under my eyes. Whatever; I’ll sleep when I’m dead!
After my penultimate morning of classes, I went to lunch at a restaurant called “L’épice and Love.” It’s a “franglais” play-on-words—“épice” means “spice,” but to an English speaker, it sounds like “Peace and love.” Anyhoo, I had one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time: egg-plant stuffed with spinach and a ricotta-ish cheese, followed by an ever-so-rich, but oh-so-delicious chocolate mousse. After the institute closed today, I went out with my usual group of friends for a drink. I am really going to miss these cafés when I get back to the US! Stupid 21st amendment… I ate dinner with Françoise and spent the rest of the evening working on my theatre essay and organizing my life for the next week. I have quite a bit to do in these last few days!
7.25.2007
As I expected, my fatigue caught up with me today. After History class, I went out to get a pastry for a mid-morning snack, and as I was walking back, a bee flew into my sandal. Before it could sting me, however, I stung myself by stepping on it. Fortunately, my super-calloused (fragilistc?) feet protected me from getting stung too badly. When I got back to the Institute, I was very tired and very out of it. For the second time, I have greatly regretted not bringing Benadryl with me. I went out for lunch and for dessert, I had a wonderful tarte aux framboises (raspberries). After that, I began to feel much better, even though my concentration was practically non-existent for the rest of the day.
My last theatre class was this afternoon, and afterwards, I immediately rushed off to see a show for which I had made reservations yesterday. It was part of the Festival In, and was a theatre-dance production in English called Nine-Finger about a child soldier. The energetic show was VERY bizarre, but I really liked it. It was what I’d call “experimental theatre,” pushing the boundaries and rejecting conformism. I’m not so sure the French audience received it as well, however. During the curtain-call, I think I heard some “boo’s,” but they could have been “whoo’s” too—I’m not sure.
7.26.2007
Je suis finie! It feels SO good to be done with my finals and to not have to worry about school work for another month. I took my history exam this morning, followed by my theatre exam this afternoon. Both were essay tests. I hate writing under time-crunches because I focus so much on the content that my grammar/style/form is defenestrated. (I love that word.) In between tests, I treated myself to a new pair of shoes. I bought what I originally though were some really ugly, but very European sandals. I tried them on with no intention of buying them, but they were just so comfortable that I could not take them off. While I’m still not convinced that they are cute, they are growing on me. ; ) After my theatre final—in which I got to write a lovely essay on “What is black? But first, what is color?”—I went out with my friends to drink some sangria in celebration. I came back for dinner with Françoise and then began packing. I HATE packing. My duffle back is ridiculously heavy, thanks to all my school books/papers/etc. Then I went to meet Jessie to see Swan Lac but when I got to the theatre, I found out that the show had closed on Monday. I was a bit disappointed, but c’est la vie. That would have been the 17th show I’ve seen, and for some reason, 17 just doesn’t sound as good as 16…ah, the psychology of numbers… Instead, Jessie and I walked around town and ended up having some hot chocolate at a café while reminiscing about our past 6 weeks. I am glad I took these classes (even though I complained about them so much), if nothing else, for this wonderful feeling of having finished them.
7.27.2007
This is the last time I will have internet until I'm home, so this will be my last post. Tomorrow I get on the train to Cagnes Sur Mer where I will spend the weekend with Andre and Danielle, my host parents from last year. Then on Monday, I will leave Nice at 9 am, and arrive in RC at 7 pm. A 24-hour day of traveling jammed into 10 hours...but then I'll be HOME!
As always, peace and love. See you soon!
7.27.2007
7.23.2007
FRANCE, part 6
7.16.2007
Whew. Two weeks left, and too much to do. Amidst reading two more plays, writing two more critiques, and memorizing a fair deal of modern French history, I’ve got my work cut out for me. I keep reminding myself that it is only school, and there’s a lot of learning to be done outside of classes. Just this past weekend, I finally started to feel a little more comfortable with my French. When people ask me for directions now, and I can generally give them. I find that I have more problems when I try and translate a thought directly from English than if I come up with the thought in French in the first place.
This afternoon I saw a play called Fin de Terre (The End of the World). It was a somewhere between George Orwell and Al Gore—a story centered on the end of the world due to global warming. I had trouble understanding it because of its technical vocabulary, but I hope to find the script to read so that I can better comprehend the details. The show was particularly refreshing because it was the first “representational” play that I have seen at the Festival; everything else has been very “presentational” in manner, breaking down the “fourth wall” and acknowledging the audience. Also, the costumes were pretty sweet—futuristic, but no tinfoil or neon.
I spent the evening writing postcards (I’m running out of time if I want them to get there before I do!) and reading a play for my class. Nothing too exciting, but I guess it can’t always be.
7.17.2007
Today was a tired day. I think it is the heat that wears me out. I realize it is even hotter at home right now, but at least they have air-conditioning there. Classes went by very slowly this morning. I’m beginning to feel burnt out. I will be glad when they are over.
In the afternoon, my theatre class went to a “rencontre,” a symposium of sorts, of Maryse Condé, the woman who wrote the first play we read this semester, Pension les Alizés. I liked her because she was very rebellious in her old age, doing the opposite of what people wanted or expected her to do. The interviewer was asking questions for which he clearly had a specific answer in mind; however, she would completely turn the tables on him. For instance, he would say, “You once said…Does that mean…?” to which she would respond, “That was 20 years ago. A lot can happen in 20 years—people change, opinions change.” Afterwards, three other girls and I went to “boire un verre” with our professor. It got a little awkward when she asked us for our feedback about the course. I tried to explain to her that it was hard for me to make all the connections and critically analyze the plays because when I read them, my main goal is to understand the plot. If I read the play a second time, perhaps I would see more clearly the underlying themes and symbols. But I do not want to spend my time re-reading them when I could be “learning by living.” Part of me says that I should work hard and get the most out my classes; but the other part is telling me to take advantage of the “course of life.” It is the battle between book-smart and street-smart, I suppose…
This evening I saw the second required play for my theatre class, Attitude Clando. It was part of the “Festival In” and started at 11 pm. Fortunately it was only an hour long; I don’t think my back could have lasted much longer, as we were sitting on bleachers, six inches above the ground. The play was a monologue, written, directed, and performed by the same man from the Republic of the Congo. Mr. Higgins would have been proud of his wonderful diction. The “stage” was outside in a garden. A bed of hot coals formed a circle around the actor while he gave his monologue in almost complete darkness. I only wish I could have better understood what he was saying. I felt as though if I had known just a few words that he kept repeating, I would have been able to follow much better. Of course, I didn’t remember these words after the show, so I couldn’t look them up. Shoot.
7.18.2007
Wednesdays are wonderful. In between classes, I read in the park. It was pretty hot, so benches in the shade were in high demand. Because no one wants to sit in the sun, complete strangers end up sitting very close to you; although, the “personal space bubble” is much smaller in Europe than in the US. This doesn’t bother me, except on days like today when the sweaty man next to me pulled out his tobacco, rolled his own cig, and started smoking. Ahem, ahem.
This evening I met Jessie to see Movin’ Melvin Brown, the show we tried to see a week ago but couldn’t because it was sold out. It’s the only show out of the 700/800 that is from the US. The crowd huddled around the door for nearly a half-hour, waiting for the house to open to fight for premium seats. About five minutes before the show starts, some black guy pushes his way through with a giant garment bag—Melvin Brown, himself, no doubt. Perhaps his dinner was late, or he didn’t know that you have to ask for the bill in France before they bring it. Anyway, the show started a little late, but Jessie and I had front-row seats. He sang a variety of songs by Ray Charles, Sammy Davis, Jr., Louie Armstrong, Nat King Cole, and himself. He was also a very talented and energetic dancer, doing everything from Frank Sinatra tap to Michael Jackson moves. Between numbers, he would tell little anecdotes or jokes, in English, of course. I think Jessie and I were the only people in the audience who understood him, since he had a rather strong accent. Then, about half-way through the show:
M. BROWN. Now is anyone here familiar with clogging? Does anyone know how to clog?
JESSIE. (in an unnecessarily loud whisper) Hey, isn’t that what you do?!
M. BROWN. It looks like we have some cloggers right here in the front. Do you know how to clog?
ME. Yes, I do.
M. BROWN. (clearly, a little shocked) Really?!
ME. Yes.
M. BROWN. Well come on up here, both of you.
JESSIE. I don’t know how to clog!
ME. I don’t have the proper shoes!
M. BROWN. Oh, come on, both of you get up here.
I was utterly dumbfounded. Was this really happening? It’s not every day that you run in to someone who 1) knows that clogging and wooden shoes without backs are not synonymous, and 2) actually knows how to clog. So, even though Jessie has never clogged in her life and I was in flip-flops, we went up on stage and did some impromptu clogging with him! He started out with a bunch of shuffles, and I followed. Then we broke into the time-step, followed by the lumber-jack move—not really “clogging” steps, per say, but hey, I was dancing on stage in France with some guy who has performed with the likes of B.B. King, Stevie Wonder, James Brown, Willie Nelson, and Harry Connic Jr.! Who would have thought!? After Jessie and I sat back down, he proceeded to do some real clogging—the dance that took my family half-way around the world to China six years ago—and I must say: he was pretty darn good.
For the rest of the show, I was on Cloud Nine. Towards the end, he inquired if there were any swing dancers in the crowd. Well, I wasn’t about to raise my hand, but neither was anyone else in the room. Mr. Brown looked at me and said, “I bet you know how to swing dance. Get up here.” Some other French lady shoved her timid friend forward as well, and we took the stage, acting as sort of improv, backup dancers while he sang. I busted out in a solo version of West Coast swing with some Charleston thrown in for kicks. In the middle of the song, he danced with each of us individually, and he sure had the moves down! The audience loved it. Some lady got her camera out and started snapping away—it’s a little weird to think that I’ll be in some complete stranger’s photo album…
After the performance, I told him where I was from and how I started clogging. He said he never expected to find anyone who knew how to clog in France, and I told him I was equally surprised! Go figure. I was too much in a state of disbelief to return home after that, so Jessie and I went out for a drink and replayed the whole evening. I’m sure no one will be as impressed as me was when I relate this story. I guess it’s another “one of those things you had to be there for,” but I was there and it was pretty crazy.
7.19.2007
It was hard to wake up this morning. Fortunately, I didn’t have class until 11 am, and there was some coffee left when I got up. Last night I had a nightmare that I went home without any of my luggage. I’m excited to be returning to my family, but I am not looking forward to packing everything up again. My life has been rather nomadic lately, wandering from place to place, packing, unpacking, and packing again, never staying in one spot for too long. I keep thinking of something Melissa told me before I left: “Kelsye, I knew you would never come back here and stay. You are just not that kind of person.” It made me sad that she said this, but perhaps she is right. When I am away, I miss home horribly. However, when I am there, I feel as though I’m missing out on all that this world has to offer. Life is a crazy balancing act, I suppose. The tightrope is very narrow and high, but fortunately I have a safety net of people who love me and who will catch me when I fall. (Okay, that was a corny metaphor, but work with me…)
This evening I saw Les 8 Femmes (The 8 Women) with a couple other girls. It was based off of a movie (or maybe the movie was based off of the play…I’m not sure), and the mystery, “who-done-it” pot was reminiscent of Mousetrap or Clue, the movie. Each of the eight women had a corresponding instrumentalist playing in the orchestra, and the staging was really cool. The storyline was a bit tricky to follow, though, especially since it was 11:15 pm and I was really tired.
7.20.2007
I met Nicole and Jessie for lunch at the crêperie today before rushing off to see Le Ménagerie de verre (The Glass Menagerie) with Jessie. I was excited to see another show that I’ve seen in English, but about half-way through the performance, I remembered that I wasn’t a big fan of it to begin with. I saw it this past year at the Guthrie, and found the set to be stellar, but the story itself, a little too dull, slow, and sad for my liking. At least this production was only half as long.
In the afternoon, I wandered back to the apartment and ended up falling asleep. This heat takes it out of me—and I suppose the fact that I haven’t gone to sleep before 1 am this whole week doesn’t help. Tonight ended up being another late night too. I saw Roméo hait Juliette (Romeo Hates Juliette), a parody of Billy’s tragic classic which they interpreted in eight or nine different ditties: freeze-frame, musical, English, Spanish, Russian (really French with –ski added on to the end of every word), etc. Even though I missed a lot of the verbal humor, it was still droll, thanks to the abundance of visual humor.
The play finished around 12:15 am, just in time for me to stop by the FNAC and pick up a copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows. Only the English version was released, and by English, I mean British; the French version doesn’t come out until October. Nonetheless, I was pretty proud that I got it eight hours before everyone at home, and I didn’t even have to wait in line! ; ) I, however, will NOT be burning the midnight oil, reading to the end of the book. In fact, I don’t think I’ll even start it until after my final exams because I know that when I pick it up, there is no putting it back down.
7.21.2007
This morning, I met the other students at the train station for our final excursion, destination: Arles. This time we actually took the train. It was exciting because the seats were in little cabins like in Harry Potter (everyone’s mind is on HP at the moment). When we arrived, we visited the Roman Amphitheatre with the Archeology/Architecture prof. I think I learned a lot more because I knew I didn’t have to remember everything, since I dropped that class for History. For instance, if it started raining during one of the games, no worries; they would just cover the entire arena with a giant sheet. I can’t imagine how much fabric that would take!
For lunch, I ate at the café that Van Gogh immortalized in his “Le Café la Nuit.” It was ridiculously over-priced, but I suppose if you own that place, you can charge what you want and people will come. Too bad Van Gogh didn’t whack himself, because that café owes him a fortune. After lunch, I did a speed-walking tour of the open-air market—the largest in France. It was just when everyone was shutting down and closing up for the day, but I still got to see some of the giant wheels of potent cheese and the many assortments of olives. Then we all met back up with the prof and examined the architecture significance of the Cathedral St. Trophime, followed by a visit to the cloister. While humming “How do you solve a problem like Maria,” I pondered how peaceful it must have been to live in quiet reflection, completely shut off from the material frills and problems of the world.
I spent the rest of the afternoon walking through town, window shopping, and people watching. There were several weddings at the Hôtel de Ville (the city hall), and every hour another round of honking cars would pull up, decked out with beautiful, fresh floral bouquets would pull up; another elegant woman in white would gracefully appear; and everyone would stop what they were doing and ogle. One of the cars was a dark green Jaguar, just like the one mum had. I thought of dad’s story that when I was of a wee 3 years of age, I allegedly vowed to not marry anyone who didn’t have at least one Jaguar. I guess that’s why I’m still single.
We took the train back to Avignon, and I went back to the apartment for dinner. I was feeling a bit theatre-comatose, so I was planning on taking it easy and catching up on my reading. I realized that it was my last Saturday night in Avignon, though, and decided that I couldn’t possibly stay in. Instead, I went for a long walk around town, and when my legs could not carry me any further, I stopped at a café, ordered a glass of wine, and pulled out the last play for my theatre class. After struggling through a few pages, I decided I needed something a little lighter and began reading about the history of the high-heel (a book Aisling loaned me before we parted ways). It was quite enjoyable, just my wine, my book, and me.
7.22.2007
A wonderful choir sang at mass this morning, but the organist sounded like he was from OLPH. ; ) It was bittersweet, being my last mass in the Cathédral de Notre Dame des Doms. Afterwards, I met some other girls for lunch, did a little souvenir shopping, and went to the Musée d’Angladon, the museum with the Impressionist paintings in Avignon. It was a little private collection, but they had several paintings by Monet, Manet, Degas, Renoir, Picasso, Cézanne, and Van Gogh. I love 19th and 20th century art; it makes me really happy for some reason.
The rest of my day was spent catching up on homework and preparing for this crazy last week. I am very ready for classes to be done with. I feel as though I’ve hit a brick wall, and I can’t go any further. The fact that I’ll be headed home in about a week doesn’t help either; I’m not working as hard as I should be since I know I won’t have to speak French again until September. My language skills have undoubtedly progressed, but I’m still far from fluent. I find it rather discouraging because in order to really learn the language, I would have to live here and submerse myself in it, i.e., no American-student, English-speaking friends. I am very grateful for the friends I have made, but I don’t think we helped each other improve our French very much.
Whew. Two weeks left, and too much to do. Amidst reading two more plays, writing two more critiques, and memorizing a fair deal of modern French history, I’ve got my work cut out for me. I keep reminding myself that it is only school, and there’s a lot of learning to be done outside of classes. Just this past weekend, I finally started to feel a little more comfortable with my French. When people ask me for directions now, and I can generally give them. I find that I have more problems when I try and translate a thought directly from English than if I come up with the thought in French in the first place.
This afternoon I saw a play called Fin de Terre (The End of the World). It was a somewhere between George Orwell and Al Gore—a story centered on the end of the world due to global warming. I had trouble understanding it because of its technical vocabulary, but I hope to find the script to read so that I can better comprehend the details. The show was particularly refreshing because it was the first “representational” play that I have seen at the Festival; everything else has been very “presentational” in manner, breaking down the “fourth wall” and acknowledging the audience. Also, the costumes were pretty sweet—futuristic, but no tinfoil or neon.
I spent the evening writing postcards (I’m running out of time if I want them to get there before I do!) and reading a play for my class. Nothing too exciting, but I guess it can’t always be.
7.17.2007
Today was a tired day. I think it is the heat that wears me out. I realize it is even hotter at home right now, but at least they have air-conditioning there. Classes went by very slowly this morning. I’m beginning to feel burnt out. I will be glad when they are over.
In the afternoon, my theatre class went to a “rencontre,” a symposium of sorts, of Maryse Condé, the woman who wrote the first play we read this semester, Pension les Alizés. I liked her because she was very rebellious in her old age, doing the opposite of what people wanted or expected her to do. The interviewer was asking questions for which he clearly had a specific answer in mind; however, she would completely turn the tables on him. For instance, he would say, “You once said…Does that mean…?” to which she would respond, “That was 20 years ago. A lot can happen in 20 years—people change, opinions change.” Afterwards, three other girls and I went to “boire un verre” with our professor. It got a little awkward when she asked us for our feedback about the course. I tried to explain to her that it was hard for me to make all the connections and critically analyze the plays because when I read them, my main goal is to understand the plot. If I read the play a second time, perhaps I would see more clearly the underlying themes and symbols. But I do not want to spend my time re-reading them when I could be “learning by living.” Part of me says that I should work hard and get the most out my classes; but the other part is telling me to take advantage of the “course of life.” It is the battle between book-smart and street-smart, I suppose…
This evening I saw the second required play for my theatre class, Attitude Clando. It was part of the “Festival In” and started at 11 pm. Fortunately it was only an hour long; I don’t think my back could have lasted much longer, as we were sitting on bleachers, six inches above the ground. The play was a monologue, written, directed, and performed by the same man from the Republic of the Congo. Mr. Higgins would have been proud of his wonderful diction. The “stage” was outside in a garden. A bed of hot coals formed a circle around the actor while he gave his monologue in almost complete darkness. I only wish I could have better understood what he was saying. I felt as though if I had known just a few words that he kept repeating, I would have been able to follow much better. Of course, I didn’t remember these words after the show, so I couldn’t look them up. Shoot.
7.18.2007
Wednesdays are wonderful. In between classes, I read in the park. It was pretty hot, so benches in the shade were in high demand. Because no one wants to sit in the sun, complete strangers end up sitting very close to you; although, the “personal space bubble” is much smaller in Europe than in the US. This doesn’t bother me, except on days like today when the sweaty man next to me pulled out his tobacco, rolled his own cig, and started smoking. Ahem, ahem.
This evening I met Jessie to see Movin’ Melvin Brown, the show we tried to see a week ago but couldn’t because it was sold out. It’s the only show out of the 700/800 that is from the US. The crowd huddled around the door for nearly a half-hour, waiting for the house to open to fight for premium seats. About five minutes before the show starts, some black guy pushes his way through with a giant garment bag—Melvin Brown, himself, no doubt. Perhaps his dinner was late, or he didn’t know that you have to ask for the bill in France before they bring it. Anyway, the show started a little late, but Jessie and I had front-row seats. He sang a variety of songs by Ray Charles, Sammy Davis, Jr., Louie Armstrong, Nat King Cole, and himself. He was also a very talented and energetic dancer, doing everything from Frank Sinatra tap to Michael Jackson moves. Between numbers, he would tell little anecdotes or jokes, in English, of course. I think Jessie and I were the only people in the audience who understood him, since he had a rather strong accent. Then, about half-way through the show:
M. BROWN. Now is anyone here familiar with clogging? Does anyone know how to clog?
JESSIE. (in an unnecessarily loud whisper) Hey, isn’t that what you do?!
M. BROWN. It looks like we have some cloggers right here in the front. Do you know how to clog?
ME. Yes, I do.
M. BROWN. (clearly, a little shocked) Really?!
ME. Yes.
M. BROWN. Well come on up here, both of you.
JESSIE. I don’t know how to clog!
ME. I don’t have the proper shoes!
M. BROWN. Oh, come on, both of you get up here.
I was utterly dumbfounded. Was this really happening? It’s not every day that you run in to someone who 1) knows that clogging and wooden shoes without backs are not synonymous, and 2) actually knows how to clog. So, even though Jessie has never clogged in her life and I was in flip-flops, we went up on stage and did some impromptu clogging with him! He started out with a bunch of shuffles, and I followed. Then we broke into the time-step, followed by the lumber-jack move—not really “clogging” steps, per say, but hey, I was dancing on stage in France with some guy who has performed with the likes of B.B. King, Stevie Wonder, James Brown, Willie Nelson, and Harry Connic Jr.! Who would have thought!? After Jessie and I sat back down, he proceeded to do some real clogging—the dance that took my family half-way around the world to China six years ago—and I must say: he was pretty darn good.
For the rest of the show, I was on Cloud Nine. Towards the end, he inquired if there were any swing dancers in the crowd. Well, I wasn’t about to raise my hand, but neither was anyone else in the room. Mr. Brown looked at me and said, “I bet you know how to swing dance. Get up here.” Some other French lady shoved her timid friend forward as well, and we took the stage, acting as sort of improv, backup dancers while he sang. I busted out in a solo version of West Coast swing with some Charleston thrown in for kicks. In the middle of the song, he danced with each of us individually, and he sure had the moves down! The audience loved it. Some lady got her camera out and started snapping away—it’s a little weird to think that I’ll be in some complete stranger’s photo album…
After the performance, I told him where I was from and how I started clogging. He said he never expected to find anyone who knew how to clog in France, and I told him I was equally surprised! Go figure. I was too much in a state of disbelief to return home after that, so Jessie and I went out for a drink and replayed the whole evening. I’m sure no one will be as impressed as me was when I relate this story. I guess it’s another “one of those things you had to be there for,” but I was there and it was pretty crazy.
7.19.2007
It was hard to wake up this morning. Fortunately, I didn’t have class until 11 am, and there was some coffee left when I got up. Last night I had a nightmare that I went home without any of my luggage. I’m excited to be returning to my family, but I am not looking forward to packing everything up again. My life has been rather nomadic lately, wandering from place to place, packing, unpacking, and packing again, never staying in one spot for too long. I keep thinking of something Melissa told me before I left: “Kelsye, I knew you would never come back here and stay. You are just not that kind of person.” It made me sad that she said this, but perhaps she is right. When I am away, I miss home horribly. However, when I am there, I feel as though I’m missing out on all that this world has to offer. Life is a crazy balancing act, I suppose. The tightrope is very narrow and high, but fortunately I have a safety net of people who love me and who will catch me when I fall. (Okay, that was a corny metaphor, but work with me…)
This evening I saw Les 8 Femmes (The 8 Women) with a couple other girls. It was based off of a movie (or maybe the movie was based off of the play…I’m not sure), and the mystery, “who-done-it” pot was reminiscent of Mousetrap or Clue, the movie. Each of the eight women had a corresponding instrumentalist playing in the orchestra, and the staging was really cool. The storyline was a bit tricky to follow, though, especially since it was 11:15 pm and I was really tired.
7.20.2007
I met Nicole and Jessie for lunch at the crêperie today before rushing off to see Le Ménagerie de verre (The Glass Menagerie) with Jessie. I was excited to see another show that I’ve seen in English, but about half-way through the performance, I remembered that I wasn’t a big fan of it to begin with. I saw it this past year at the Guthrie, and found the set to be stellar, but the story itself, a little too dull, slow, and sad for my liking. At least this production was only half as long.
In the afternoon, I wandered back to the apartment and ended up falling asleep. This heat takes it out of me—and I suppose the fact that I haven’t gone to sleep before 1 am this whole week doesn’t help. Tonight ended up being another late night too. I saw Roméo hait Juliette (Romeo Hates Juliette), a parody of Billy’s tragic classic which they interpreted in eight or nine different ditties: freeze-frame, musical, English, Spanish, Russian (really French with –ski added on to the end of every word), etc. Even though I missed a lot of the verbal humor, it was still droll, thanks to the abundance of visual humor.
The play finished around 12:15 am, just in time for me to stop by the FNAC and pick up a copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows. Only the English version was released, and by English, I mean British; the French version doesn’t come out until October. Nonetheless, I was pretty proud that I got it eight hours before everyone at home, and I didn’t even have to wait in line! ; ) I, however, will NOT be burning the midnight oil, reading to the end of the book. In fact, I don’t think I’ll even start it until after my final exams because I know that when I pick it up, there is no putting it back down.
7.21.2007
This morning, I met the other students at the train station for our final excursion, destination: Arles. This time we actually took the train. It was exciting because the seats were in little cabins like in Harry Potter (everyone’s mind is on HP at the moment). When we arrived, we visited the Roman Amphitheatre with the Archeology/Architecture prof. I think I learned a lot more because I knew I didn’t have to remember everything, since I dropped that class for History. For instance, if it started raining during one of the games, no worries; they would just cover the entire arena with a giant sheet. I can’t imagine how much fabric that would take!
For lunch, I ate at the café that Van Gogh immortalized in his “Le Café la Nuit.” It was ridiculously over-priced, but I suppose if you own that place, you can charge what you want and people will come. Too bad Van Gogh didn’t whack himself, because that café owes him a fortune. After lunch, I did a speed-walking tour of the open-air market—the largest in France. It was just when everyone was shutting down and closing up for the day, but I still got to see some of the giant wheels of potent cheese and the many assortments of olives. Then we all met back up with the prof and examined the architecture significance of the Cathedral St. Trophime, followed by a visit to the cloister. While humming “How do you solve a problem like Maria,” I pondered how peaceful it must have been to live in quiet reflection, completely shut off from the material frills and problems of the world.
I spent the rest of the afternoon walking through town, window shopping, and people watching. There were several weddings at the Hôtel de Ville (the city hall), and every hour another round of honking cars would pull up, decked out with beautiful, fresh floral bouquets would pull up; another elegant woman in white would gracefully appear; and everyone would stop what they were doing and ogle. One of the cars was a dark green Jaguar, just like the one mum had. I thought of dad’s story that when I was of a wee 3 years of age, I allegedly vowed to not marry anyone who didn’t have at least one Jaguar. I guess that’s why I’m still single.
We took the train back to Avignon, and I went back to the apartment for dinner. I was feeling a bit theatre-comatose, so I was planning on taking it easy and catching up on my reading. I realized that it was my last Saturday night in Avignon, though, and decided that I couldn’t possibly stay in. Instead, I went for a long walk around town, and when my legs could not carry me any further, I stopped at a café, ordered a glass of wine, and pulled out the last play for my theatre class. After struggling through a few pages, I decided I needed something a little lighter and began reading about the history of the high-heel (a book Aisling loaned me before we parted ways). It was quite enjoyable, just my wine, my book, and me.
7.22.2007
A wonderful choir sang at mass this morning, but the organist sounded like he was from OLPH. ; ) It was bittersweet, being my last mass in the Cathédral de Notre Dame des Doms. Afterwards, I met some other girls for lunch, did a little souvenir shopping, and went to the Musée d’Angladon, the museum with the Impressionist paintings in Avignon. It was a little private collection, but they had several paintings by Monet, Manet, Degas, Renoir, Picasso, Cézanne, and Van Gogh. I love 19th and 20th century art; it makes me really happy for some reason.
The rest of my day was spent catching up on homework and preparing for this crazy last week. I am very ready for classes to be done with. I feel as though I’ve hit a brick wall, and I can’t go any further. The fact that I’ll be headed home in about a week doesn’t help either; I’m not working as hard as I should be since I know I won’t have to speak French again until September. My language skills have undoubtedly progressed, but I’m still far from fluent. I find it rather discouraging because in order to really learn the language, I would have to live here and submerse myself in it, i.e., no American-student, English-speaking friends. I am very grateful for the friends I have made, but I don’t think we helped each other improve our French very much.
7.16.2007
FRANCE, part 5: my how time flies
7.9.2007
This morning I had fresh figs for the first time in my life. They are absolutely delicious, and I think I have eaten near a dozen throughout the remainder of the day. Today in my Theatre class I gave my oral presentation. It went fairly well, and I was glad to have it over with. After the Institute closed for the day, I accompanied a few friends to a café for an aperitif. I tried the pastis—an anis flavored liqueur served with a carafe of water to dilute it to your liking. It wasn’t bad, but probably something I wouldn’t order again. I came back to the apartment for dinner but ate alone because Françoise was helping her son this evening. Around 10, I met the same girls for a dégestif. One of the girls was having “issues” back in the US, so we took her out to distract her. I had a Bailey’s Café that was quite tasty. Someone else ordered the “vin chaud” (hot wine) out of curiosity, and it turned out to be a sort of mulled wine, served hot with orange wedges and cinnamon. We had a fun time this evening, and I finally feel like we are becoming a little community of friends.
7. 10.2007
When I talked to dad today, he said he has noticed a common theme in my entries: pubs and cafés. I guess that’s just what we do to be social here. I either sit in my room while working on homework, or go hang out with friends at a café or pub. Don’t worry, dad; I’ve not become an alcoholic.
Today I received a letter…from myself! We all wrote letters in April during one of the study abroad orientation sessions, and the Global Studies office mails them out half-way through each student’s program. It was fun to read, and I have to say, I gave myself some pretty good advice!
Tonight I saw my first “In Festival” production. I went with my theatre class to a play called Les Paravents. It was four hours long and very difficult to understand, as there were 96 characters! It was fascinating to watch from a technical point of view, though, because there were only three “living actors,” and the remaining 93 characters were played by marionettes. Two other actors did the voices for these 93 characters, and it was incredible to hear their enormous range. When we were seated, we were loaned a complimentary pair of opera glasses. They came in handy since the marionettes were between one and two feet tall. Mum would have appreciated that. J I was a bit embarrassed by some of my classmates, however. Two of them “forgot” to turn off their cell phones—good thing we weren’t in NYC where it is a criminal offence if your phone rings during a performance—and the girl I was sitting next to could not hold still. I realize that not everyone has the same appreciation for theatre, and I might be equally bored at a basketball game, for instance, but it was a little annoying, to say the least.
7.11.2007
Today I wandered into FNAC, a store resembling a combination of Best Buy and Borders. I spent near an hour there, browsing through books and music, many of which were of American origin. I ended up purchasing Le Diable s’habille en Prada—not something I would probably ever read in English, but the “unscholarly” style of writing is perfect for me to read in French. It’s nice to read something other than plays or critical essays about post-colonial negritude for a change.
This evening I had planned on seeing Movin’ Melvin Brown, a one-man show comprised of Ray Charles and Sammy Davis, Jr., numbers. However, when I met my friend and fellow theatre enthusiast, Jessie, at the venue, we found out that if we did not have reservations, there was no way we would get a seat. So, we made reservations for some time next week, and spontaneously picked another show to see. We ended up seeing a tango dance performance called Melopeya. A live orchestra (bass, violin, guitar, and clarinet) played spicy music while the two principal dancers mesmerized the audience with their sexy tango moves. For one number, the lead male dancer and the violinist did a tango throughout which she continued to play her violin. It was a fun show, and I had no problems translating! I think I’ll have to take some tango lessons some time when I get home…
7.12.2007
This morning I would have normally slept in, but since I had my history mid-term today, I spent the morning studying a lot of information that ended up not being on the test. Why does my life work this way? The questions that were on it, I answered rather vaguely. It’s bizarre: I find that I understand the lectures very well, for the most part; I could tell you all about the IVe République in English, but it’s when I have to re-translate it back into French that I have problems.
This evening I went on a dinner cruise on the Rhône. A group of us had made reservations for this a couple weeks ago, and we all decided to dress up for the occasion. I wore my 4-inch, black stilettos (which I threw in my suitcase right before leaving because I had read that one should never step foot in France without some black high-heels), and strutted down the cobblestone streets like a vraie française. There is something about high-heels that elicits a sense of confidence, attitude, and power from their wearer. I’m not sure what it is, but I think that’s why I like wearing them.
The boat ride was quite enjoyable, even though we traversed the same course over and over again. The food was good, and it was fun to see the city from a new perspective. The beautiful setting sun was reflecting on the water; however, it was reflected directly into the eyes of the other side of the table. Since I was sitting next to the window, I closed the blind. Later, when I went to open it again, there was a big clatter and a long metal strip came crashing down. Oops. There weren’t a whole lot of other people on the boat, but I could feel all eyes on me. I very coolly continued to put the blind up, acting as though nothing had happened, while all the other girls were holding their breaths to keep from laughing. I guess I have come to accept the awkward and embarrassing situations that are characteristic of my life; I get through them and move on. Everyone else thought it was pretty funny, though, and for the rest of the evening, when an awkward silence came up, someone would chime in with a, “Hey, remember that time when we broke the boat?” followed by howls of laughter. After our dinner cruise, we took a few turns on the Farris wheel that overlooks the city and surrounding area. It was an amazing view, and we got to stop at the tippy-top. We then went to our usual café at Place Pie, “Café 3.14…,” and had some wine before turning in.
7.13.2007
Friday at last. I went the Institute this morning to work on some homework, but decided to go out and see a play instead. I went to Comme dans un rêve de Moliere (Like a Dream of Moliere). It was what I would call “Moliere abridged” with a sort of Cirque du Soleil, dream-like flair. The show was very audience-oriented. It started out by electing a new king and queen from the crowd. Then, half-way through the show, the actors served us aperitifs and peanuts—my kind of show! The set was simple; costumes, elaborate; acting, over-the-top; music, combo-techno-rap-classical; lighting, perfect; dancing, inspiring; fire-juggling, just plain cool.
This evening, Françoise went out with a friend, so I ate alone. Then I met some friends for my second show of the day, Les Monologues du vagin (The Vagina Monologues). I had never seen it before, and found it much better than I was anticipating. I was even able to understand most of it. Every seat in the theatre was filled, and there were even some people sitting in the aisles. It was very popular with the French crowd. Upon leaving the hot, stuffy theatre, we were all accosted by the actors from Les Monologues du penis, promoting their show and not forgetting to tell us that their theatre was air-conditioned! After the show, we went out for desert at the crêperie. I had a crêpe with dark chocolate, fresh pear, and pear sorbet. It was oh-so-rich, but oh-so-good!
I got to talk to Aisling today for the first time in a couple weeks this afternoon. She didn’t say much, though, because dad had just woken her up and she was a bit groggy. She really is a true teenager. Today, I also received an email with my mid-term grades. The email also encouraged me to make the most of my experience by speaking French as much as possible. I feel that my speaking skills are lagging. I can understand pretty well, and if I have time to think, my writing is fairly decent, but when I try to speak, it takes me forever to express myself, and the pronunciation/accents are often incorrect. I know that the only way to get better is by practicing, but it is difficult because when I am with the other students, they all speak English. The only times I speak French are in class, when talking to Françoise, and when ordering food. Shoot. I wish I had a personal French assistant who could accompany me wherever I go, teach me new words, and correct me when I screw up. His name would be Pierre and he would wear a beret, I think… Okay, maybe the beret’s a bit much. Nonetheless, it would be nice.
7.14.2007
Le 14 juillet. Bastille day. Like the 4th of July, but with a French twist. And I got to spend the day learning about the French medical system.
I had plans to meet Jessie at a restaurant for lunch before going to see a show this afternoon. We had a lovely meal. I ordered a vegetable presée—one of my better meals on this trip—and then we ordered desert to split. Jessie has a bad allergy to nuts, so we ordered a Fruit Crumble after the server assured us that it was sans nuts. It was quite tasty, indeed. However, after a few mouthfuls, Jessie informed me that there were, in fact, invisible almonds in the crumble top, and, for the third time in my life, I came very close to having to jab someone’s leg with a large needle.
Fortunately, she had her epi-pen with her, and her reaction was, as she tried to reassure me, a “best-case scenario.” We paid for our meal and left the restaurant. Apparently she just needed time for the swelling to go down, so we took a seat in the streets. We must have been quite the sight: two girls, clean and nicely dressed, sitting on the filthy sidewalk. Later I joked that we might have been able to make a few euros if we had put a box in front of us. By the time we made it back to her house, she was doing a little better, but was in need of some Benadryl. Her host family had left for the weekend, and she didn’t have any with her. So, we called the director of the program, and she so kindly drove over and took us to a medical clinic. It was outside the city walls, and because it was the national holiday, there was only one doctor present. The ER was across the street, but she just needed to get a prescription for an antihistamine. (I guess they don’t have OTC antihistamines in France.) So, I got to spend the afternoon learning all about the French medical system in the best possible way—as a spectator. I was thanking God the whole time that it was not me who was sick! She eventually got the prescription; we drove to the only open pharmacy; and then we took her back to her house where she took some meds and got some sleep. The IAU director was amazing. I don’t know what we would have done without her. I look back on today, and am so incredibly grateful that things went as well as they did. Thank you, thank you, thank you, God.
After my adventurous afternoon, I met up with some other girls to watch the fireworks over the Pont d’Avignon tonight. There was a horde of people there, and it made me appreciate the fireworks at Mt. Rushmore that we can see from the comfort of our own patio. Afterward, I and two others went to a concert one of the city squares. It was a little ironic, though, because the band played not one French song. It was purely anglo-american music, most of which I knew. I had a fun time since I finally got to go dancing. The French are crazy dancers. They are not self-conscious by any means, although it would be nice if they remembered to use a little more deodorant and/or cologne…
7.15.2007
I woke up this morning, my ears still ringing from last night. Shoot. At mass there was a Gregorian Choir performing--not every day that one gets to hear Gregorian chants. Afterwards, Nicole (my “mass buddy”) and I went to the huge indoor market to get pastries and coffee for lunch. I inquired about a certain type of bread, because I wasn’t sure what it was. The lady tried to explain it to me, but I didn’t quite understand. So, I ordered something else, but she ended up giving me the other bread, too, so I could try it. It turned out to be a French version of focaccia bread, but I was pretty excited to get a free sample.
Later in the afternoon, I met Jessie, who was feeling much better after yesterday’s episode, and we went to Le Songe d’une nuit d’été (A Midsummer Night’s Dream). It was…interesting. The set was pretty cool, and the actors were very talented, playing multiple roles. However, in translating Shakespeare into French, they maintain only the basic storyline, nixing the beautiful language that is Shakespeare. I wasn’t sure what to think when Puck came out to give his “Over bridge, over dale,” speech, but sang it to “Play That Funky Music White Boy.” (They sure seem to like that song here!) But the French audience ate it up. At the end of all the shows I have seen, there have been encores upon encores. The actors love to bow and receive their praise. The funny part is that they say “bis” instead of “encore.” Weird, I know, since “encore” is a French word.
This morning I had fresh figs for the first time in my life. They are absolutely delicious, and I think I have eaten near a dozen throughout the remainder of the day. Today in my Theatre class I gave my oral presentation. It went fairly well, and I was glad to have it over with. After the Institute closed for the day, I accompanied a few friends to a café for an aperitif. I tried the pastis—an anis flavored liqueur served with a carafe of water to dilute it to your liking. It wasn’t bad, but probably something I wouldn’t order again. I came back to the apartment for dinner but ate alone because Françoise was helping her son this evening. Around 10, I met the same girls for a dégestif. One of the girls was having “issues” back in the US, so we took her out to distract her. I had a Bailey’s Café that was quite tasty. Someone else ordered the “vin chaud” (hot wine) out of curiosity, and it turned out to be a sort of mulled wine, served hot with orange wedges and cinnamon. We had a fun time this evening, and I finally feel like we are becoming a little community of friends.
7. 10.2007
When I talked to dad today, he said he has noticed a common theme in my entries: pubs and cafés. I guess that’s just what we do to be social here. I either sit in my room while working on homework, or go hang out with friends at a café or pub. Don’t worry, dad; I’ve not become an alcoholic.
Today I received a letter…from myself! We all wrote letters in April during one of the study abroad orientation sessions, and the Global Studies office mails them out half-way through each student’s program. It was fun to read, and I have to say, I gave myself some pretty good advice!
Tonight I saw my first “In Festival” production. I went with my theatre class to a play called Les Paravents. It was four hours long and very difficult to understand, as there were 96 characters! It was fascinating to watch from a technical point of view, though, because there were only three “living actors,” and the remaining 93 characters were played by marionettes. Two other actors did the voices for these 93 characters, and it was incredible to hear their enormous range. When we were seated, we were loaned a complimentary pair of opera glasses. They came in handy since the marionettes were between one and two feet tall. Mum would have appreciated that. J I was a bit embarrassed by some of my classmates, however. Two of them “forgot” to turn off their cell phones—good thing we weren’t in NYC where it is a criminal offence if your phone rings during a performance—and the girl I was sitting next to could not hold still. I realize that not everyone has the same appreciation for theatre, and I might be equally bored at a basketball game, for instance, but it was a little annoying, to say the least.
7.11.2007
Today I wandered into FNAC, a store resembling a combination of Best Buy and Borders. I spent near an hour there, browsing through books and music, many of which were of American origin. I ended up purchasing Le Diable s’habille en Prada—not something I would probably ever read in English, but the “unscholarly” style of writing is perfect for me to read in French. It’s nice to read something other than plays or critical essays about post-colonial negritude for a change.
This evening I had planned on seeing Movin’ Melvin Brown, a one-man show comprised of Ray Charles and Sammy Davis, Jr., numbers. However, when I met my friend and fellow theatre enthusiast, Jessie, at the venue, we found out that if we did not have reservations, there was no way we would get a seat. So, we made reservations for some time next week, and spontaneously picked another show to see. We ended up seeing a tango dance performance called Melopeya. A live orchestra (bass, violin, guitar, and clarinet) played spicy music while the two principal dancers mesmerized the audience with their sexy tango moves. For one number, the lead male dancer and the violinist did a tango throughout which she continued to play her violin. It was a fun show, and I had no problems translating! I think I’ll have to take some tango lessons some time when I get home…
7.12.2007
This morning I would have normally slept in, but since I had my history mid-term today, I spent the morning studying a lot of information that ended up not being on the test. Why does my life work this way? The questions that were on it, I answered rather vaguely. It’s bizarre: I find that I understand the lectures very well, for the most part; I could tell you all about the IVe République in English, but it’s when I have to re-translate it back into French that I have problems.
This evening I went on a dinner cruise on the Rhône. A group of us had made reservations for this a couple weeks ago, and we all decided to dress up for the occasion. I wore my 4-inch, black stilettos (which I threw in my suitcase right before leaving because I had read that one should never step foot in France without some black high-heels), and strutted down the cobblestone streets like a vraie française. There is something about high-heels that elicits a sense of confidence, attitude, and power from their wearer. I’m not sure what it is, but I think that’s why I like wearing them.
The boat ride was quite enjoyable, even though we traversed the same course over and over again. The food was good, and it was fun to see the city from a new perspective. The beautiful setting sun was reflecting on the water; however, it was reflected directly into the eyes of the other side of the table. Since I was sitting next to the window, I closed the blind. Later, when I went to open it again, there was a big clatter and a long metal strip came crashing down. Oops. There weren’t a whole lot of other people on the boat, but I could feel all eyes on me. I very coolly continued to put the blind up, acting as though nothing had happened, while all the other girls were holding their breaths to keep from laughing. I guess I have come to accept the awkward and embarrassing situations that are characteristic of my life; I get through them and move on. Everyone else thought it was pretty funny, though, and for the rest of the evening, when an awkward silence came up, someone would chime in with a, “Hey, remember that time when we broke the boat?” followed by howls of laughter. After our dinner cruise, we took a few turns on the Farris wheel that overlooks the city and surrounding area. It was an amazing view, and we got to stop at the tippy-top. We then went to our usual café at Place Pie, “Café 3.14…,” and had some wine before turning in.
7.13.2007
Friday at last. I went the Institute this morning to work on some homework, but decided to go out and see a play instead. I went to Comme dans un rêve de Moliere (Like a Dream of Moliere). It was what I would call “Moliere abridged” with a sort of Cirque du Soleil, dream-like flair. The show was very audience-oriented. It started out by electing a new king and queen from the crowd. Then, half-way through the show, the actors served us aperitifs and peanuts—my kind of show! The set was simple; costumes, elaborate; acting, over-the-top; music, combo-techno-rap-classical; lighting, perfect; dancing, inspiring; fire-juggling, just plain cool.
This evening, Françoise went out with a friend, so I ate alone. Then I met some friends for my second show of the day, Les Monologues du vagin (The Vagina Monologues). I had never seen it before, and found it much better than I was anticipating. I was even able to understand most of it. Every seat in the theatre was filled, and there were even some people sitting in the aisles. It was very popular with the French crowd. Upon leaving the hot, stuffy theatre, we were all accosted by the actors from Les Monologues du penis, promoting their show and not forgetting to tell us that their theatre was air-conditioned! After the show, we went out for desert at the crêperie. I had a crêpe with dark chocolate, fresh pear, and pear sorbet. It was oh-so-rich, but oh-so-good!
I got to talk to Aisling today for the first time in a couple weeks this afternoon. She didn’t say much, though, because dad had just woken her up and she was a bit groggy. She really is a true teenager. Today, I also received an email with my mid-term grades. The email also encouraged me to make the most of my experience by speaking French as much as possible. I feel that my speaking skills are lagging. I can understand pretty well, and if I have time to think, my writing is fairly decent, but when I try to speak, it takes me forever to express myself, and the pronunciation/accents are often incorrect. I know that the only way to get better is by practicing, but it is difficult because when I am with the other students, they all speak English. The only times I speak French are in class, when talking to Françoise, and when ordering food. Shoot. I wish I had a personal French assistant who could accompany me wherever I go, teach me new words, and correct me when I screw up. His name would be Pierre and he would wear a beret, I think… Okay, maybe the beret’s a bit much. Nonetheless, it would be nice.
7.14.2007
Le 14 juillet. Bastille day. Like the 4th of July, but with a French twist. And I got to spend the day learning about the French medical system.
I had plans to meet Jessie at a restaurant for lunch before going to see a show this afternoon. We had a lovely meal. I ordered a vegetable presée—one of my better meals on this trip—and then we ordered desert to split. Jessie has a bad allergy to nuts, so we ordered a Fruit Crumble after the server assured us that it was sans nuts. It was quite tasty, indeed. However, after a few mouthfuls, Jessie informed me that there were, in fact, invisible almonds in the crumble top, and, for the third time in my life, I came very close to having to jab someone’s leg with a large needle.
Fortunately, she had her epi-pen with her, and her reaction was, as she tried to reassure me, a “best-case scenario.” We paid for our meal and left the restaurant. Apparently she just needed time for the swelling to go down, so we took a seat in the streets. We must have been quite the sight: two girls, clean and nicely dressed, sitting on the filthy sidewalk. Later I joked that we might have been able to make a few euros if we had put a box in front of us. By the time we made it back to her house, she was doing a little better, but was in need of some Benadryl. Her host family had left for the weekend, and she didn’t have any with her. So, we called the director of the program, and she so kindly drove over and took us to a medical clinic. It was outside the city walls, and because it was the national holiday, there was only one doctor present. The ER was across the street, but she just needed to get a prescription for an antihistamine. (I guess they don’t have OTC antihistamines in France.) So, I got to spend the afternoon learning all about the French medical system in the best possible way—as a spectator. I was thanking God the whole time that it was not me who was sick! She eventually got the prescription; we drove to the only open pharmacy; and then we took her back to her house where she took some meds and got some sleep. The IAU director was amazing. I don’t know what we would have done without her. I look back on today, and am so incredibly grateful that things went as well as they did. Thank you, thank you, thank you, God.
After my adventurous afternoon, I met up with some other girls to watch the fireworks over the Pont d’Avignon tonight. There was a horde of people there, and it made me appreciate the fireworks at Mt. Rushmore that we can see from the comfort of our own patio. Afterward, I and two others went to a concert one of the city squares. It was a little ironic, though, because the band played not one French song. It was purely anglo-american music, most of which I knew. I had a fun time since I finally got to go dancing. The French are crazy dancers. They are not self-conscious by any means, although it would be nice if they remembered to use a little more deodorant and/or cologne…
7.15.2007
I woke up this morning, my ears still ringing from last night. Shoot. At mass there was a Gregorian Choir performing--not every day that one gets to hear Gregorian chants. Afterwards, Nicole (my “mass buddy”) and I went to the huge indoor market to get pastries and coffee for lunch. I inquired about a certain type of bread, because I wasn’t sure what it was. The lady tried to explain it to me, but I didn’t quite understand. So, I ordered something else, but she ended up giving me the other bread, too, so I could try it. It turned out to be a French version of focaccia bread, but I was pretty excited to get a free sample.
Later in the afternoon, I met Jessie, who was feeling much better after yesterday’s episode, and we went to Le Songe d’une nuit d’été (A Midsummer Night’s Dream). It was…interesting. The set was pretty cool, and the actors were very talented, playing multiple roles. However, in translating Shakespeare into French, they maintain only the basic storyline, nixing the beautiful language that is Shakespeare. I wasn’t sure what to think when Puck came out to give his “Over bridge, over dale,” speech, but sang it to “Play That Funky Music White Boy.” (They sure seem to like that song here!) But the French audience ate it up. At the end of all the shows I have seen, there have been encores upon encores. The actors love to bow and receive their praise. The funny part is that they say “bis” instead of “encore.” Weird, I know, since “encore” is a French word.
7.09.2007
FRANCE, part 4: the half-way point
7.2.2007
Today makes me 19 ½. Even though I didn’t eat any cake, it was a good day. This afternoon, I tried talking to my parents via Skype once again. However, this time, it actually worked! I have a little camera which I connected to my computer, so they could actually see me, too. At one time, we even had a conference call going with the Sabow household! It was rather incredible: dad was sitting on the patio at home; Aunt Andrea and Uncle David were drinking their morning coffee; I was sitting in a building built hundreds of years ago in Avignon; and it sounded like we were just next door! It was especially exciting for me because I got to talk to my cousin David who is back from Cali for the week. He, Heather, Sam-bo, and Aisling are driving to MN tomorrow to spend the 4th at the Lake. Last night, Aisling watched fireworks with Kari. I’m not going to lie; I was a bit jealous. I hope they have fireworks on Bastille Day.
Before returning to the apartment, I stopped by the tourism office and picked up a program for the “Festival Off.” With the “Festival In,” (the more prestigious and “official” festival), I will have between 600 and 700 plays PER DAY to choose from! The city is painted with colorful publicity posters pasted down every street, on every fence, and even onto the ground. It makes for a bizarre scene when mixed with the stone buildings and medieval architecture. I paged through the 250-page program a bit this evening, and there were just too many to choose from! Do I go to the ones that I have seen or read in English? Do I go to the ones that I have heard of before? Or do I take a chance and see some random French creation? Looks like I’ll be seeing a lot of theatre in the next three weeks...
7.3.2007
I had class this morning, nothing remarkable. After my lunch—which I made from fresh ingredients that I picked up at the market this morning, including some amazing multi-grain, organic bread—I worked with two other girls on the history project we have to present on Thursday. We are talking about American stereotypes of the French, their significance, origin, and validity. For our presentation, we are integrating some clips from the movie Talladega Nights, so it should be somewhat funny. I’m talking about the stereotypes associated with French cuisine. For example: the French eat lots of baguettes (vrai); the French are all drunks (faux—they produce between 6.7 and 8 billion bottles of wine a year, so why not drink a few?); the French eat smelly cheeses (vrai/faux—they have over 400 types of cheese, some more potent than others…); the French eat frogs legs (faux—this on menus in the US more frequently than in France); the French are proud of their gastronomic customs (vrai—fresh ingredients, tasty recipes, sitting down and enjoying meals, need I say more?).
I talked to my parents again on Skype this afternoon. It was pretty cool because now they have a camera on their end, so I got to see the whole dam-fam, including the dogs! I’m happy to be able to say that everyone looks good. Then I went out to café with a friend and had a refreshing appertif. For dinner tonight, Françoise made “tabbouleh,” except that it was really couscous with lemon juice, olive oil, tomates, puréed zucchini, and red peppers—no bulgar, mint, or parsley to speak of. Nonetheless, it was tasty. Instead of hitting the books this evening, I lounged out in front of the télé and watched Greys. Now it’s off to bed because I’m bloody tired.
7.4.2007
Do the French have a Fourth of July? Of course they do. They just don’t celebrate. Unless you are an American in France, that is…
Today was my easy day of classes. In the afternoon I joined a few other girls to go get some ice cream in celebration of our “holiday.” We went all-out and ordered decadent, yet delicious sundaes. Mine had pistachio ice cream in it, and to my great surprise, it was actually quite scrumptious! I could not imagine why anyone would want to make anything pistachio-flavored, but I must say I can see more pistachio ice cream in my future.
After spoiling my appetite, I returned chez Françoise and had dinner. No Hawaiian-roasted boar or Uncle Frank’s buffalo, but I still ended up eating more than I should have. What is it about holidays and eating too much? While working on my theatre presentation, I got a SSM (a text message) from one of the students wondering if I wanted to go out and celebrate this evening. It was nearly 9:30, but I thought about what dad had told me earlier in the day about “getting my head out from my books,” and decided to go. We met up at the pub—a little weird celebrating the American national holiday at an Irish pub in France—but we had fun. I didn’t have too much fun, however, as I still had to walk back to the apartment, and I prefer to have my wits about me while walking at night. Fortunately all the streets I take are well lit, and I made it back safe-and-sound. Yes, ‘twas a memorable 4th of July, indeed; fireworks are over-rated.
7.5.2007
This morning we gave our presentation on French stereotypes in History class. It went pretty well. We did a PowerPoint on my computer, and the professor seemed to enjoy the film clips. In between classes I stopped by the Tourism Office and bought a loyalty pass for the “Festival Off” that will give me a discount of at least 30% when I see a show. I went through the mammoth program again this afternoon and marked down all the ones I am interested in seeing—way more than I’ll be able to see, but at least I have options. I’m afraid my “souvenirs” will be seeing these plays. Oh, well, I’d rather do that than come home with more stuff. I hate stuff.
I have been getting some responses from the journal entries I have posted recently, and for the most part people seem to be enjoying it. While it does take a decent chunk of time out of my Sundays to type the week’s entries, I will try and keep it up. It’s a good way for me to reflect on what I’ve done and, at the same time, not have to write a dozen of the same emails or make pricy phone calls on a regular basis. Please keep the comments coming! I love to hear your responses and find out who is reading this. Peace and love to you all. ; )
7.6.2007
The Festival du Théâtre commenced today, and the town is wild with people. While walking down the street, reading in the park, and sitting at a café, I was bombarded with people handing out post-cards, flyers, and bookmarks advertising the several hundred “Off” productions. Company members took to the streets in full costume trying to spark interest with publicity stunts: music, ditties, dancing, acrobatics, even some furry cave-men covered in mud. It felt like Disney World minus the long lines and roller coasters!
For lunch, I met three girls at the Crêperie next to the Institute where I had an apple crêpe with honey, cinnamon, and crème fraiche. Then Jessie, a NYC native and French and Theatre major at Swathmore University, and I ran off to catch my first show of the festival: Le Malade Imaginaire by Molière. It was a crazy-over-the-top production—an eccentric mélange of multi-media video, rock-opera/techno music, circus stunts (the Invalid’s wife and brother were on stilts), modern dance, beautifully elaborate costumes, exaggerated masks, and Molière’s signature satire. The main set piece was a giant bead that was shifted and tilted at different heights and angles throughout the play. I was even more impressed when the curtain call came around and I realized that all the characters in the show were portrayed by a mere five actors! I had no idea! I did struggle a bit with the language comprehension, but it helped that I have read the play in English and was, thus, familiar with the storyline. The ultra-dramatic acting helped too.
In the evening, there was a significant parade down the Rue de la République, the main drag in Avignon, to kick off the Festival. The actors marched down the street, publicizing their events and handing out cards. And for some reason, which I’m still not clear on, there were about 100 horses in the parade. Not horses that were saddled or harnessed, but just a huge herd of horses tromping through the streets of Avignon! It was quite a sight, let me tell you! It reminded me of the bull runs in Spain, except not quite so extreme. I don’t think anyone was hurt, fortunately, but I saw some close calls. It must have been a logistical nightmare getting them to and from the city.
After dinner, I met up with some girls at a restaurant where we were going to have some drinks. When I arrived, they had already ordered their wine and were panicking because apparently you can’t just order wine. They ordered some dessert, but when the server delivered it to the table, she said to eat it quickly, pay and leave. This was one of those situations where if we had spoken French more fluently, there wouldn’t have been a problem. However, because the woman was busy, she took advantage of the poor girls and made them very upset. I tried to get them to take it as “a grain of salt” and enjoy their desserts and wine, which was actually pretty darn good, but I think my efforts were worthless. I looked at it as a difference between the capitalist and socialist systems, but they didn’t quite see it like that. After that snafu, they went to hang out at one of their houses, but I was feeling antsy. Instead, I walked around town for a bit. I ended up wandering in to an art gallery and chatting it up with the artists for a bit. It was cool to talk to them, even though they picked out my American accent right away. Earlier in the evening someone asked me for directions in French, though, so I guess I look the part; it’s when I open my mouth that I have issues. Zut alors!
7.7.2007
Triple sevens! No wonder today was such a great day! This morning I went to the village of Carpentras—known for its strawberries, truffles (the fungi, that is), and candy—with 8 other students to meet and eat lunch with the Franco-American Alliance of the town. It is an association created by and comprised of mainly French people, in their sixties and beyond, who want to show appreciation for what the Americans did for the French during and after the Second World War. For example, one man was the son of an American GI who arrived on June 6, 1944, and a Belgian woman. It wasn’t until he was 48, however, that he come to the US and got to meet his father for the first time. Another man, Michael, with whom I became fast friends, was born to an Italian father and French mother in 1940. (His dad was the only Italian fighting on the side of the French during WWII.) When the Americans arrived in 1944, it was the first time he had ever seen his parents smile.
Anyway, this French-American association invited us to spend the day with them in celebration of our national holiday. In the morning, we took the bus to Carpentras where a Scottish chap picked us up and took us for a drive through the country. We eventually stopped and took a nice, long “promenade” through the hills. Even though I was in a dress and flip-flops, I thoroughly enjoyed the hike. The country, as I’ve said before, reminds me very much of the Black Hills. Some of the other girls were not so accustomed to hiking in flip-flops (or the physical exercise, sadly) and had a less pleasant time. After working up an appetite, we met the rest of the association at a restaurant for lunch. There were maybe 25 people, and for the most part, everyone was very nice. The man I sat next to was Michael, the Italian Frenchman. He was very grandfatherly and had a good sense of humor. He taught me some French drinking songs and was full of stories and jokes. I felt very much at home.
In the afternoon, we went for yet another drive. We visited Le Mont Ventoux from which we had an excellent view of the surrounding landscapes, including the Alps. I can’t say I’ve ever been to Switzerland, but I’ve seen it! We then drove to another village where I finally got to see (and smell) the beautiful lavender fields that Provence is so often associated with. It was nearly 9 pm by the time I returned to Françoise’s, but fortunately, she had eaten without me.
Yes, the day had been lovely, and I was “very well contented.” J I had tentative plans to see La Mégère un peu près apprivoisée (The Shrew, Now a Little More Tame) with anther girl at 10:30, but I couldn’t reach her. I was pretty tired, but I figured, “Hey, I’m in France, and I only get to live once,” so I went to the show by myself. And, oh, am I glad I did! It was a delightfully charming musical adaptation of Billy Shake’s Taming of the Shrew, full of energy and laughs. (Okay, that sounds like I copied it off of the publicity poster, but I really liked it.) The actor playing Petruccio was worth the 11 euros right there! Coincidentally, he was also the writer and director of the show. After the show, I bought a CD and kind of wanted to hang around in hopes that I could talk to the cast, but then I realized it was quite late and I was horribly tired. Instead, I walked home while humming and tapping my toes. I love musicals. They always put me in such a great mood!
7.8.2007
Mass this morning was jam-packed. No, it wasn’t some holy day of obligation that I had forgotten about; there are simply a lot of people in town now for the festival. Afterwards I lit a candle and said some prayers for Uncle David who will be having a 10-hour surgery on Tuesday morning. Please, God, please let everything go well. After mass, I walked around town a bit, taking some more pictures of the city and the people, as dad had requested. I had a chilled cream of pepper soup for lunch, which—let me tell you—tastes much better than it sounds! This afternoon, I saw a show called Macadam Tap. It wasn’t a “real” play, but more of a rhythmic musical revue, much like STOMP. However, the acts were completely original and creative, performed by four middle-aged women. For example, for one soft-shoe number, they used toasted bread crumbs instead of sand. It was targeted more towards a younger audience, but I enjoyed it, nonetheless. When it was over, I went to a café and intended to drink my wine while reading the next play we are studying and writing some postcards. I didn’t get much done, however, as I kept getting interrupted by actors advertising their productions. I don’t mind, though, because it gives me a chance to listen to and talk to people in French.
*NOTE* Dad requested I put up a link to the Theatre Festival, so here they are:
Festival In: http://www.festival-avignon.com/
Festival Off: http://www.avignon-off.org/site/index.html
Today makes me 19 ½. Even though I didn’t eat any cake, it was a good day. This afternoon, I tried talking to my parents via Skype once again. However, this time, it actually worked! I have a little camera which I connected to my computer, so they could actually see me, too. At one time, we even had a conference call going with the Sabow household! It was rather incredible: dad was sitting on the patio at home; Aunt Andrea and Uncle David were drinking their morning coffee; I was sitting in a building built hundreds of years ago in Avignon; and it sounded like we were just next door! It was especially exciting for me because I got to talk to my cousin David who is back from Cali for the week. He, Heather, Sam-bo, and Aisling are driving to MN tomorrow to spend the 4th at the Lake. Last night, Aisling watched fireworks with Kari. I’m not going to lie; I was a bit jealous. I hope they have fireworks on Bastille Day.
Before returning to the apartment, I stopped by the tourism office and picked up a program for the “Festival Off.” With the “Festival In,” (the more prestigious and “official” festival), I will have between 600 and 700 plays PER DAY to choose from! The city is painted with colorful publicity posters pasted down every street, on every fence, and even onto the ground. It makes for a bizarre scene when mixed with the stone buildings and medieval architecture. I paged through the 250-page program a bit this evening, and there were just too many to choose from! Do I go to the ones that I have seen or read in English? Do I go to the ones that I have heard of before? Or do I take a chance and see some random French creation? Looks like I’ll be seeing a lot of theatre in the next three weeks...
7.3.2007
I had class this morning, nothing remarkable. After my lunch—which I made from fresh ingredients that I picked up at the market this morning, including some amazing multi-grain, organic bread—I worked with two other girls on the history project we have to present on Thursday. We are talking about American stereotypes of the French, their significance, origin, and validity. For our presentation, we are integrating some clips from the movie Talladega Nights, so it should be somewhat funny. I’m talking about the stereotypes associated with French cuisine. For example: the French eat lots of baguettes (vrai); the French are all drunks (faux—they produce between 6.7 and 8 billion bottles of wine a year, so why not drink a few?); the French eat smelly cheeses (vrai/faux—they have over 400 types of cheese, some more potent than others…); the French eat frogs legs (faux—this on menus in the US more frequently than in France); the French are proud of their gastronomic customs (vrai—fresh ingredients, tasty recipes, sitting down and enjoying meals, need I say more?).
I talked to my parents again on Skype this afternoon. It was pretty cool because now they have a camera on their end, so I got to see the whole dam-fam, including the dogs! I’m happy to be able to say that everyone looks good. Then I went out to café with a friend and had a refreshing appertif. For dinner tonight, Françoise made “tabbouleh,” except that it was really couscous with lemon juice, olive oil, tomates, puréed zucchini, and red peppers—no bulgar, mint, or parsley to speak of. Nonetheless, it was tasty. Instead of hitting the books this evening, I lounged out in front of the télé and watched Greys. Now it’s off to bed because I’m bloody tired.
7.4.2007
Do the French have a Fourth of July? Of course they do. They just don’t celebrate. Unless you are an American in France, that is…
Today was my easy day of classes. In the afternoon I joined a few other girls to go get some ice cream in celebration of our “holiday.” We went all-out and ordered decadent, yet delicious sundaes. Mine had pistachio ice cream in it, and to my great surprise, it was actually quite scrumptious! I could not imagine why anyone would want to make anything pistachio-flavored, but I must say I can see more pistachio ice cream in my future.
After spoiling my appetite, I returned chez Françoise and had dinner. No Hawaiian-roasted boar or Uncle Frank’s buffalo, but I still ended up eating more than I should have. What is it about holidays and eating too much? While working on my theatre presentation, I got a SSM (a text message) from one of the students wondering if I wanted to go out and celebrate this evening. It was nearly 9:30, but I thought about what dad had told me earlier in the day about “getting my head out from my books,” and decided to go. We met up at the pub—a little weird celebrating the American national holiday at an Irish pub in France—but we had fun. I didn’t have too much fun, however, as I still had to walk back to the apartment, and I prefer to have my wits about me while walking at night. Fortunately all the streets I take are well lit, and I made it back safe-and-sound. Yes, ‘twas a memorable 4th of July, indeed; fireworks are over-rated.
7.5.2007
This morning we gave our presentation on French stereotypes in History class. It went pretty well. We did a PowerPoint on my computer, and the professor seemed to enjoy the film clips. In between classes I stopped by the Tourism Office and bought a loyalty pass for the “Festival Off” that will give me a discount of at least 30% when I see a show. I went through the mammoth program again this afternoon and marked down all the ones I am interested in seeing—way more than I’ll be able to see, but at least I have options. I’m afraid my “souvenirs” will be seeing these plays. Oh, well, I’d rather do that than come home with more stuff. I hate stuff.
I have been getting some responses from the journal entries I have posted recently, and for the most part people seem to be enjoying it. While it does take a decent chunk of time out of my Sundays to type the week’s entries, I will try and keep it up. It’s a good way for me to reflect on what I’ve done and, at the same time, not have to write a dozen of the same emails or make pricy phone calls on a regular basis. Please keep the comments coming! I love to hear your responses and find out who is reading this. Peace and love to you all. ; )
7.6.2007
The Festival du Théâtre commenced today, and the town is wild with people. While walking down the street, reading in the park, and sitting at a café, I was bombarded with people handing out post-cards, flyers, and bookmarks advertising the several hundred “Off” productions. Company members took to the streets in full costume trying to spark interest with publicity stunts: music, ditties, dancing, acrobatics, even some furry cave-men covered in mud. It felt like Disney World minus the long lines and roller coasters!
For lunch, I met three girls at the Crêperie next to the Institute where I had an apple crêpe with honey, cinnamon, and crème fraiche. Then Jessie, a NYC native and French and Theatre major at Swathmore University, and I ran off to catch my first show of the festival: Le Malade Imaginaire by Molière. It was a crazy-over-the-top production—an eccentric mélange of multi-media video, rock-opera/techno music, circus stunts (the Invalid’s wife and brother were on stilts), modern dance, beautifully elaborate costumes, exaggerated masks, and Molière’s signature satire. The main set piece was a giant bead that was shifted and tilted at different heights and angles throughout the play. I was even more impressed when the curtain call came around and I realized that all the characters in the show were portrayed by a mere five actors! I had no idea! I did struggle a bit with the language comprehension, but it helped that I have read the play in English and was, thus, familiar with the storyline. The ultra-dramatic acting helped too.
In the evening, there was a significant parade down the Rue de la République, the main drag in Avignon, to kick off the Festival. The actors marched down the street, publicizing their events and handing out cards. And for some reason, which I’m still not clear on, there were about 100 horses in the parade. Not horses that were saddled or harnessed, but just a huge herd of horses tromping through the streets of Avignon! It was quite a sight, let me tell you! It reminded me of the bull runs in Spain, except not quite so extreme. I don’t think anyone was hurt, fortunately, but I saw some close calls. It must have been a logistical nightmare getting them to and from the city.
After dinner, I met up with some girls at a restaurant where we were going to have some drinks. When I arrived, they had already ordered their wine and were panicking because apparently you can’t just order wine. They ordered some dessert, but when the server delivered it to the table, she said to eat it quickly, pay and leave. This was one of those situations where if we had spoken French more fluently, there wouldn’t have been a problem. However, because the woman was busy, she took advantage of the poor girls and made them very upset. I tried to get them to take it as “a grain of salt” and enjoy their desserts and wine, which was actually pretty darn good, but I think my efforts were worthless. I looked at it as a difference between the capitalist and socialist systems, but they didn’t quite see it like that. After that snafu, they went to hang out at one of their houses, but I was feeling antsy. Instead, I walked around town for a bit. I ended up wandering in to an art gallery and chatting it up with the artists for a bit. It was cool to talk to them, even though they picked out my American accent right away. Earlier in the evening someone asked me for directions in French, though, so I guess I look the part; it’s when I open my mouth that I have issues. Zut alors!
7.7.2007
Triple sevens! No wonder today was such a great day! This morning I went to the village of Carpentras—known for its strawberries, truffles (the fungi, that is), and candy—with 8 other students to meet and eat lunch with the Franco-American Alliance of the town. It is an association created by and comprised of mainly French people, in their sixties and beyond, who want to show appreciation for what the Americans did for the French during and after the Second World War. For example, one man was the son of an American GI who arrived on June 6, 1944, and a Belgian woman. It wasn’t until he was 48, however, that he come to the US and got to meet his father for the first time. Another man, Michael, with whom I became fast friends, was born to an Italian father and French mother in 1940. (His dad was the only Italian fighting on the side of the French during WWII.) When the Americans arrived in 1944, it was the first time he had ever seen his parents smile.
Anyway, this French-American association invited us to spend the day with them in celebration of our national holiday. In the morning, we took the bus to Carpentras where a Scottish chap picked us up and took us for a drive through the country. We eventually stopped and took a nice, long “promenade” through the hills. Even though I was in a dress and flip-flops, I thoroughly enjoyed the hike. The country, as I’ve said before, reminds me very much of the Black Hills. Some of the other girls were not so accustomed to hiking in flip-flops (or the physical exercise, sadly) and had a less pleasant time. After working up an appetite, we met the rest of the association at a restaurant for lunch. There were maybe 25 people, and for the most part, everyone was very nice. The man I sat next to was Michael, the Italian Frenchman. He was very grandfatherly and had a good sense of humor. He taught me some French drinking songs and was full of stories and jokes. I felt very much at home.
In the afternoon, we went for yet another drive. We visited Le Mont Ventoux from which we had an excellent view of the surrounding landscapes, including the Alps. I can’t say I’ve ever been to Switzerland, but I’ve seen it! We then drove to another village where I finally got to see (and smell) the beautiful lavender fields that Provence is so often associated with. It was nearly 9 pm by the time I returned to Françoise’s, but fortunately, she had eaten without me.
Yes, the day had been lovely, and I was “very well contented.” J I had tentative plans to see La Mégère un peu près apprivoisée (The Shrew, Now a Little More Tame) with anther girl at 10:30, but I couldn’t reach her. I was pretty tired, but I figured, “Hey, I’m in France, and I only get to live once,” so I went to the show by myself. And, oh, am I glad I did! It was a delightfully charming musical adaptation of Billy Shake’s Taming of the Shrew, full of energy and laughs. (Okay, that sounds like I copied it off of the publicity poster, but I really liked it.) The actor playing Petruccio was worth the 11 euros right there! Coincidentally, he was also the writer and director of the show. After the show, I bought a CD and kind of wanted to hang around in hopes that I could talk to the cast, but then I realized it was quite late and I was horribly tired. Instead, I walked home while humming and tapping my toes. I love musicals. They always put me in such a great mood!
7.8.2007
Mass this morning was jam-packed. No, it wasn’t some holy day of obligation that I had forgotten about; there are simply a lot of people in town now for the festival. Afterwards I lit a candle and said some prayers for Uncle David who will be having a 10-hour surgery on Tuesday morning. Please, God, please let everything go well. After mass, I walked around town a bit, taking some more pictures of the city and the people, as dad had requested. I had a chilled cream of pepper soup for lunch, which—let me tell you—tastes much better than it sounds! This afternoon, I saw a show called Macadam Tap. It wasn’t a “real” play, but more of a rhythmic musical revue, much like STOMP. However, the acts were completely original and creative, performed by four middle-aged women. For example, for one soft-shoe number, they used toasted bread crumbs instead of sand. It was targeted more towards a younger audience, but I enjoyed it, nonetheless. When it was over, I went to a café and intended to drink my wine while reading the next play we are studying and writing some postcards. I didn’t get much done, however, as I kept getting interrupted by actors advertising their productions. I don’t mind, though, because it gives me a chance to listen to and talk to people in French.
*NOTE* Dad requested I put up a link to the Theatre Festival, so here they are:
Festival In: http://www.festival-avignon.com/
Festival Off: http://www.avignon-off.org/site/index.html
7.02.2007
FRANCE, part 3
6.24.2007
I went to mass this morning at the Cathédral de Notre Dame des Doms, the church where 7 (or 9, if you count 2 during the schism) popes were “pope-d” in the 14th century. It was certainly awe-inspiring to attend mass where so much history has taken place. Also, I was able to follow and understand the service more easily today, so that was cool.
In the afternoon, I saw an excellent movie that was part of the Avignon Film Festival. It was called Fast Food Nation and was directed by American Richard Linklater. While only paying 2 euros for a ticket made me pretty excited, I became even more so when Linklater walked into the theatre and did a short interview before the showing! This film won him the Prix Chateau-Neuf de Pape, for which he will receive one case of wine for the next 12 years. He seemed pleased with his prize, as well he should be! Linklater wrote the screenplay based on a non-fiction book of, I think, the same title. However, the film is not a documentary. He took the facts from the book and added a story line, making it, in my opinion, a wonderful blend of art and science. While the movie was difficult to watch at times, it addressed a complex web of several political, economical, and social issues in a poignant and powerful manner. I HIGHLY recommend this film!
Upon viewing Fast Food Nation my interest in food and nutrition and its universal consequences was rekindled. Additionally, it reaffirmed my vegetarian habits. (I’m not a real “vegetarian,” as I eat meat if I know it has been raised without antibiotics, growth hormones, and other such lovely additives.) For the remainder of the day, I have been reflecting on the immense impact of our eating choices. I am certainly fascinated by this realm. I believe that many problems in our current society are influenced, both directly and indirectly, by what we chose to consume. I am hopeful that by correcting the numerous injustices found in the production of our food, other social, political, and economical wrongs will simultaneously be corrected. It is fitting, I think, that we must “return to our roots” to solve the numerous and complex inequalities that exist in our world today.
6.25.2007
On my way to school this morning, I stopped by the “marchet” (market) and picked up some lettuce, tomatoes, and walnuts to make myself a salad for lunch. That, with some chèvre melted onto crusts of bread, made for a delectable—not to mention cheap—meal. When I sat down with my salad and bread, the other students were quite impressed that I had actually made my own lunch. Their idea of “making” lunches is going to the “Shopi” (like a Cub Foods or Safeway) and buying microwave meals, yogurt, maybe a pre-made sandwich, etc. But what can I say? I take pleasure in eating well and eating what tastes good! The ironic part is that it is very simple to prepare a meal such as mine and less expensive, too.
This morning was a long morning indeed: two hours of theatre class, followed directly by two hours of history class. In the afternoon, my eyes needed some relief from staring at a computer screen, so I went to a café and sipped on an iced coffee while reading our first play. I felt very “French!” Nothing eventful occurred for the rest of the day; I returned to the apartment, Françoise made dinner, and I worked most of the evening.
6.26.2007
While walking to class this morning, I thought to myself, “Yes, I could do this. I could move to France. I could live here.” Then came another four-straight-hours of class and moving to France was the last thing I wanted to do. Next week I have to give oral presentations for both of my classes. Thinking about that made me a little stressed out, so I stayed at the Institute most of the afternoon and tried to study; however, I couldn’t concentrate. I went for a brief walk through town and bought a ticket to go see Le Roi Lear (King Lear) in a couple of weeks at the Palais des Papes. Then I had some ice cream, and things began to look up (funny how that works). For dinner, Françoise made ratatouille, a sort of vegetable stew with eggplant, zucchini, and tomatoes. It was most excellent.
6.27.2007
Today should have been a good day because I only had class for two hours. Before leaving the Institute for the day, I had plans to talk to my family via Skype, an online, computer-to-computer calling system. However, after an hour of trying, we were unable to connect. Whether it was because of a glitch in the program or because of user error, I’m not sure, but nothing makes me more frustrated than technology that fails to work! I called home using a calling card instead, but nobody answered. Then I called my mum’s cell and got her voice mail. Finally, I got through to my dad. He was in the middle of a meeting but could tell that I was flustered. He gave me his “be patient with yourself, remember to not work too hard, and have some fun” pep talks with a “many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness” thrown in to boot. I am so grateful for his ability to cheer me up at times like this!
I know he is right, but I have been feeling so behind lately. I am not learning the language as quickly as I would like. Also, I feel disadvantaged in my classes because I know very little about historical events/places/people (thanks to my wonderful history teachers in high school…), and both classes rely heavily on this area of knowledge. I feel as though every free moment I have, I should be studying. However, I also know that I can learn a great deal simply by being here. I don’t necessarily have to take classes to learn. I guess I just needed to hear someone else tell me this, though.
Today began “les soldes” (the sales) throughout the city. It was utter chaos! You would have thought it was the day after Thanksgiving n the U.S. I accompanied some of the girls to a few stores, but for some reason I did not have the urge to buy anything—a rare occurrence for me, indeed! I did see a few things that caught my fancy, and I do have some “spending money” that Gramps so kindly slipped to me before I left. But I have trouble justifying buying more “stuff” that I don’t really need.
Also, when I talked to dad today, he said he was really enjoying reading what I have posted. He encouraged me to keep writing, so writing I am…
6.28.2007
MDPJ: Merci, Dieu, pour jeudi. (Thank God for Thursdays.) I slept in for an extra hour this morning, and felt much better when I got up. History didn’t start until 11 am, so I hung around the apartment and did a little reading. Françoise loaned me an old History text-book from when her daughter was in elementary school. It is much easier to read, and it fills in some of the voids. For example, before this morning, I knew absolutely nothing about the Algerian War. If I had heard of it, I obviously did not take note of it. I also learned a bit about the war of decolonization in Vietnam; no wonder they have such strong French influences there! I feel rather ignorant never having learned about these events before.
After classes today, I suggested that we go out to a café and have some drinks, as I didn’t feel like once again returning to Françoise’s and doing homework. When I said “drinks,” I was thinking a nice glass of wine, but I apparently everyone else was thinking “Coca light.” I chuckled to myself, though, when they paid a third more for their sodas than I did for my refreshing glass of white wine. : )
Françoise had another late dinner meeting this evening, so I ate by myself. Then I turned on the télé for a bit and watched a ridiculous French movie from the 70’s that was comparable to a sort of Monty Python, I suppose. It was so over-the-top and far-fetched that I was laughing out loud in an empty house!
6.29.2007
I learned two very interesting facts today: 1) instead of saying, “Break a leg,” the French say, “Merde!” before going on stage; 2) denim was first made in Nîmes, France. They called the early fabric “toile de Nîmes,” so the jeans material that we so often find ourselves sporting today is “de Nîmes” – “denim!”
This morning, I toured the backstage area of the Palais du Papes theatre. It was arranged through our theatre class, so we got a private tour of the stage, the open-air auditorium, the underground tunnels and passageways, and even the dressing rooms! It was “incroyable!” I was so in my element; surrounding me were teams of people running around with bundles of lumber, painting set pieces, erecting flats, hanging lights, and loading in the first production of the festival. While the Palais is only one venue, it is the largest, seating 2000 people, and it is where the whole festival began 61 years ago. The stage was massive. I cannot imagine performing on it, let alone trying to design/stage a production on it. Behind the stage is one of the huge walls of the Palais, itself, which they have used in several productions directing actors to speak from the high windows, etc. Our guide told us about one particular play in which a “lake” was built on the stage. Someone falls in and “drowns” in the lake, which was really a large pool they had built underneath the stage. When the actress fell, there was a scuba diver awaiting her who helped her get out, a.s.a.p., so she could dry off and “miraculously” reappear on stage. Amazing.
This afternoon, I accompanied the Archeology and Architecture class to their visit to the Pont du Gard. While I couldn’t tell you anymore about the ancient Roman aqueduct than before I went, I did take some really good pictures! I had a pleasant and relaxing afternoon, sitting in the shade, sipping a glass of wine, and taking in the moment.
6.30.2007
This morning, I woke up with what looked like a giant zit when, in reality, a mosquito just kissed me on the cheek in my sleep. I am flattered—really, Mr. Mosquito—but you shouldn’t have.
I met the other students for our second “excursion” in Provence. Our destination today was Baux-de-Provence, an ancient village that is site to the remains of a medieval chateau. On our way there, we stopped at “un cave” and had a wine-tasting. Because of the group’s size, we only tasted one rosé that was rather sweet and dry. The cave was actually underground and, thus, naturally chilled the wine, but it also made for a dark and eerie atmosphere. It was a cool experience, but I think I had more fun wine-tasting with dad. He’s never going to let me forget that I just said that.
Afterwards, we visited La Cathédrale des Images. I’m at a loss as to how to explain this. It’s a giant, man-made cave (i.e., no stalactites/stalagmites/spelunking) in which images are projected onto all the walls and floor. The theme this year is Venice, so all the projections were of the Piazza San Marco, the gondolas and canals, Carnival festivities, etc. I didn’t quite know what to think at first. Who in their right mind came up with this idea?! Upon seeing the rotating images depicted so clearly around me, however, I decided it was pretty wicked-awesome. ; ) After lunch at a little restaurant in St. Remy, we finally arrived at Baux-de-Provence. Climbing the chateau reminded me of climbing Harney Peak—the jagged rocks, the sketchy railings, the hot and exhausting hike—but when I got to the top, it was completely worth it. The vista was beautiful; full of olive groves; the same landscapes that Van Gough made famous in his paintings. I can understand why he painted so much, even if he was a loony.
When we returned to Avignon, I had dinner with Françoise. Some of the other students where going to call me after they had finished eating so we could all meet somewhere and go out. Nine o’clock rolled around and I had yet to hear from them. I was ready to go out by myself and just take a walk, but at the last minute, my “don’t be stupid” sensor kicked in, and I stayed in. Instead, I watched Singin’ in the Rain (with French subtitles, of course) and was swept away by the world of Gene Kelly. Lame, I know. But it’s one of my favorite movies, and I love the dancing (even though I would have rather been dancing myself). I feel as though I am missing out on a whole new experience because I am overly cautious. I know that learning involves taking risks and pushing oneself outside of one’s comfort zone, but at the same time, I don’t want to end up doing something I would regret. No regrets. But am I going to end up regretting not taking advantage of these chances? Shoot. Today makes one month until I board the plane to return home.
7.1.2007
After mass this morning at la Cathéadrale de Notre Dame des Doms, I visited the huge, fresh market. It was fun to see all the vendors with their crisp produce, giant hunks of meat, bizarre looking fish, savory pastries, and fresh bread. I was very jealous that we do not have anything like this in SD. I picked up some provisions for my lunches this week (an avocado, some hummus, and some pine nuts), and then I bought a “pain aux raisins” which I ate with a café (café in France = a shot of espresso) while reading for my classes.
In the afternoon, Françoise took me and another student who lives near us to La Fontaine de Vaucluse. Vaucluse is the name of the départment (like a county) of Avignon, so I imagined we would be going to some little nearby fountain. As it turns out, La Fontaine de Vaucluse is a little village about 30 minutes from Avignon. The fontaine is no “fountain,” but really a huge spring in this little village. The spring is unique in that scientists have been studying it for the past 50 years, and they’ve yet to figure out from whence it comes. Apparently, there hasn’t been much rain this year (stupid global warming…), so the water level was very low. Nonetheless, it was a beautiful area to “faire une prommenade.” Along the river, there was a little artisan community where they make hand-made paper. The current turns the water-wheel, which powers the ancient machine that creates the paper pulp. Then, using a screen and a frame, they make the paper, one sheet at a time. I bet mum would have enjoyed seeing it.
I went to mass this morning at the Cathédral de Notre Dame des Doms, the church where 7 (or 9, if you count 2 during the schism) popes were “pope-d” in the 14th century. It was certainly awe-inspiring to attend mass where so much history has taken place. Also, I was able to follow and understand the service more easily today, so that was cool.
In the afternoon, I saw an excellent movie that was part of the Avignon Film Festival. It was called Fast Food Nation and was directed by American Richard Linklater. While only paying 2 euros for a ticket made me pretty excited, I became even more so when Linklater walked into the theatre and did a short interview before the showing! This film won him the Prix Chateau-Neuf de Pape, for which he will receive one case of wine for the next 12 years. He seemed pleased with his prize, as well he should be! Linklater wrote the screenplay based on a non-fiction book of, I think, the same title. However, the film is not a documentary. He took the facts from the book and added a story line, making it, in my opinion, a wonderful blend of art and science. While the movie was difficult to watch at times, it addressed a complex web of several political, economical, and social issues in a poignant and powerful manner. I HIGHLY recommend this film!
Upon viewing Fast Food Nation my interest in food and nutrition and its universal consequences was rekindled. Additionally, it reaffirmed my vegetarian habits. (I’m not a real “vegetarian,” as I eat meat if I know it has been raised without antibiotics, growth hormones, and other such lovely additives.) For the remainder of the day, I have been reflecting on the immense impact of our eating choices. I am certainly fascinated by this realm. I believe that many problems in our current society are influenced, both directly and indirectly, by what we chose to consume. I am hopeful that by correcting the numerous injustices found in the production of our food, other social, political, and economical wrongs will simultaneously be corrected. It is fitting, I think, that we must “return to our roots” to solve the numerous and complex inequalities that exist in our world today.
6.25.2007
On my way to school this morning, I stopped by the “marchet” (market) and picked up some lettuce, tomatoes, and walnuts to make myself a salad for lunch. That, with some chèvre melted onto crusts of bread, made for a delectable—not to mention cheap—meal. When I sat down with my salad and bread, the other students were quite impressed that I had actually made my own lunch. Their idea of “making” lunches is going to the “Shopi” (like a Cub Foods or Safeway) and buying microwave meals, yogurt, maybe a pre-made sandwich, etc. But what can I say? I take pleasure in eating well and eating what tastes good! The ironic part is that it is very simple to prepare a meal such as mine and less expensive, too.
This morning was a long morning indeed: two hours of theatre class, followed directly by two hours of history class. In the afternoon, my eyes needed some relief from staring at a computer screen, so I went to a café and sipped on an iced coffee while reading our first play. I felt very “French!” Nothing eventful occurred for the rest of the day; I returned to the apartment, Françoise made dinner, and I worked most of the evening.
6.26.2007
While walking to class this morning, I thought to myself, “Yes, I could do this. I could move to France. I could live here.” Then came another four-straight-hours of class and moving to France was the last thing I wanted to do. Next week I have to give oral presentations for both of my classes. Thinking about that made me a little stressed out, so I stayed at the Institute most of the afternoon and tried to study; however, I couldn’t concentrate. I went for a brief walk through town and bought a ticket to go see Le Roi Lear (King Lear) in a couple of weeks at the Palais des Papes. Then I had some ice cream, and things began to look up (funny how that works). For dinner, Françoise made ratatouille, a sort of vegetable stew with eggplant, zucchini, and tomatoes. It was most excellent.
6.27.2007
Today should have been a good day because I only had class for two hours. Before leaving the Institute for the day, I had plans to talk to my family via Skype, an online, computer-to-computer calling system. However, after an hour of trying, we were unable to connect. Whether it was because of a glitch in the program or because of user error, I’m not sure, but nothing makes me more frustrated than technology that fails to work! I called home using a calling card instead, but nobody answered. Then I called my mum’s cell and got her voice mail. Finally, I got through to my dad. He was in the middle of a meeting but could tell that I was flustered. He gave me his “be patient with yourself, remember to not work too hard, and have some fun” pep talks with a “many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness” thrown in to boot. I am so grateful for his ability to cheer me up at times like this!
I know he is right, but I have been feeling so behind lately. I am not learning the language as quickly as I would like. Also, I feel disadvantaged in my classes because I know very little about historical events/places/people (thanks to my wonderful history teachers in high school…), and both classes rely heavily on this area of knowledge. I feel as though every free moment I have, I should be studying. However, I also know that I can learn a great deal simply by being here. I don’t necessarily have to take classes to learn. I guess I just needed to hear someone else tell me this, though.
Today began “les soldes” (the sales) throughout the city. It was utter chaos! You would have thought it was the day after Thanksgiving n the U.S. I accompanied some of the girls to a few stores, but for some reason I did not have the urge to buy anything—a rare occurrence for me, indeed! I did see a few things that caught my fancy, and I do have some “spending money” that Gramps so kindly slipped to me before I left. But I have trouble justifying buying more “stuff” that I don’t really need.
Also, when I talked to dad today, he said he was really enjoying reading what I have posted. He encouraged me to keep writing, so writing I am…
6.28.2007
MDPJ: Merci, Dieu, pour jeudi. (Thank God for Thursdays.) I slept in for an extra hour this morning, and felt much better when I got up. History didn’t start until 11 am, so I hung around the apartment and did a little reading. Françoise loaned me an old History text-book from when her daughter was in elementary school. It is much easier to read, and it fills in some of the voids. For example, before this morning, I knew absolutely nothing about the Algerian War. If I had heard of it, I obviously did not take note of it. I also learned a bit about the war of decolonization in Vietnam; no wonder they have such strong French influences there! I feel rather ignorant never having learned about these events before.
After classes today, I suggested that we go out to a café and have some drinks, as I didn’t feel like once again returning to Françoise’s and doing homework. When I said “drinks,” I was thinking a nice glass of wine, but I apparently everyone else was thinking “Coca light.” I chuckled to myself, though, when they paid a third more for their sodas than I did for my refreshing glass of white wine. : )
Françoise had another late dinner meeting this evening, so I ate by myself. Then I turned on the télé for a bit and watched a ridiculous French movie from the 70’s that was comparable to a sort of Monty Python, I suppose. It was so over-the-top and far-fetched that I was laughing out loud in an empty house!
6.29.2007
I learned two very interesting facts today: 1) instead of saying, “Break a leg,” the French say, “Merde!” before going on stage; 2) denim was first made in Nîmes, France. They called the early fabric “toile de Nîmes,” so the jeans material that we so often find ourselves sporting today is “de Nîmes” – “denim!”
This morning, I toured the backstage area of the Palais du Papes theatre. It was arranged through our theatre class, so we got a private tour of the stage, the open-air auditorium, the underground tunnels and passageways, and even the dressing rooms! It was “incroyable!” I was so in my element; surrounding me were teams of people running around with bundles of lumber, painting set pieces, erecting flats, hanging lights, and loading in the first production of the festival. While the Palais is only one venue, it is the largest, seating 2000 people, and it is where the whole festival began 61 years ago. The stage was massive. I cannot imagine performing on it, let alone trying to design/stage a production on it. Behind the stage is one of the huge walls of the Palais, itself, which they have used in several productions directing actors to speak from the high windows, etc. Our guide told us about one particular play in which a “lake” was built on the stage. Someone falls in and “drowns” in the lake, which was really a large pool they had built underneath the stage. When the actress fell, there was a scuba diver awaiting her who helped her get out, a.s.a.p., so she could dry off and “miraculously” reappear on stage. Amazing.
This afternoon, I accompanied the Archeology and Architecture class to their visit to the Pont du Gard. While I couldn’t tell you anymore about the ancient Roman aqueduct than before I went, I did take some really good pictures! I had a pleasant and relaxing afternoon, sitting in the shade, sipping a glass of wine, and taking in the moment.
6.30.2007
This morning, I woke up with what looked like a giant zit when, in reality, a mosquito just kissed me on the cheek in my sleep. I am flattered—really, Mr. Mosquito—but you shouldn’t have.
I met the other students for our second “excursion” in Provence. Our destination today was Baux-de-Provence, an ancient village that is site to the remains of a medieval chateau. On our way there, we stopped at “un cave” and had a wine-tasting. Because of the group’s size, we only tasted one rosé that was rather sweet and dry. The cave was actually underground and, thus, naturally chilled the wine, but it also made for a dark and eerie atmosphere. It was a cool experience, but I think I had more fun wine-tasting with dad. He’s never going to let me forget that I just said that.
Afterwards, we visited La Cathédrale des Images. I’m at a loss as to how to explain this. It’s a giant, man-made cave (i.e., no stalactites/stalagmites/spelunking) in which images are projected onto all the walls and floor. The theme this year is Venice, so all the projections were of the Piazza San Marco, the gondolas and canals, Carnival festivities, etc. I didn’t quite know what to think at first. Who in their right mind came up with this idea?! Upon seeing the rotating images depicted so clearly around me, however, I decided it was pretty wicked-awesome. ; ) After lunch at a little restaurant in St. Remy, we finally arrived at Baux-de-Provence. Climbing the chateau reminded me of climbing Harney Peak—the jagged rocks, the sketchy railings, the hot and exhausting hike—but when I got to the top, it was completely worth it. The vista was beautiful; full of olive groves; the same landscapes that Van Gough made famous in his paintings. I can understand why he painted so much, even if he was a loony.
When we returned to Avignon, I had dinner with Françoise. Some of the other students where going to call me after they had finished eating so we could all meet somewhere and go out. Nine o’clock rolled around and I had yet to hear from them. I was ready to go out by myself and just take a walk, but at the last minute, my “don’t be stupid” sensor kicked in, and I stayed in. Instead, I watched Singin’ in the Rain (with French subtitles, of course) and was swept away by the world of Gene Kelly. Lame, I know. But it’s one of my favorite movies, and I love the dancing (even though I would have rather been dancing myself). I feel as though I am missing out on a whole new experience because I am overly cautious. I know that learning involves taking risks and pushing oneself outside of one’s comfort zone, but at the same time, I don’t want to end up doing something I would regret. No regrets. But am I going to end up regretting not taking advantage of these chances? Shoot. Today makes one month until I board the plane to return home.
7.1.2007
After mass this morning at la Cathéadrale de Notre Dame des Doms, I visited the huge, fresh market. It was fun to see all the vendors with their crisp produce, giant hunks of meat, bizarre looking fish, savory pastries, and fresh bread. I was very jealous that we do not have anything like this in SD. I picked up some provisions for my lunches this week (an avocado, some hummus, and some pine nuts), and then I bought a “pain aux raisins” which I ate with a café (café in France = a shot of espresso) while reading for my classes.
In the afternoon, Françoise took me and another student who lives near us to La Fontaine de Vaucluse. Vaucluse is the name of the départment (like a county) of Avignon, so I imagined we would be going to some little nearby fountain. As it turns out, La Fontaine de Vaucluse is a little village about 30 minutes from Avignon. The fontaine is no “fountain,” but really a huge spring in this little village. The spring is unique in that scientists have been studying it for the past 50 years, and they’ve yet to figure out from whence it comes. Apparently, there hasn’t been much rain this year (stupid global warming…), so the water level was very low. Nonetheless, it was a beautiful area to “faire une prommenade.” Along the river, there was a little artisan community where they make hand-made paper. The current turns the water-wheel, which powers the ancient machine that creates the paper pulp. Then, using a screen and a frame, they make the paper, one sheet at a time. I bet mum would have enjoyed seeing it.
FRANCE, part 2: my first week in Avignon
6.16.2007
We got up early this morning, finished packing, and had one last meal together. Then we made our way to the train station in Toulons—to his credit, dad does a remarkable job of driving like a Frenchman—where the fam saw me on the train to Avignon. It was bittersweet having them there because I’m so awkward with goodbyes, and I didn’t really want to leave them. Once on the train, a nice English chap helped me find a spot for my suitcase and I found my seat. It was a short trip, so after I finished my lunch of cheese and crackers, I had arrived. Barbara, a secretary from the Institute, met me at the station and introduced me to my “hote d’acceuil,” Mme Françoise Tutiau. She is an older lady, in her 60’s perhaps, who lives alone and hosts students throughout the year. Françoise drove me to her 5th-floor apartment (which is really the 6th floor because they don’t count the ground floor in France), just outside of the city walls. I got settled and unpacked my things a bit before she took me for a long walk around town. We came back and she prepared dinner: salad of lettuce, tomato, egg, and tuna; plain noodles with some grated cheese; a cheese course; and fresh strawberries for dessert. I was a little disappointed when she served me about one ounce of red wine, but then I tasted it and was glad not to have to drink more than that. It was definitely in the “cooking wine” category! Before turning in for the night, I watched a little T.V., but didn’t understand much.
6.17.2007
Today is Father’s Day, and for the third year in a row, I will not see my father. Unlike the past two, however, I can’t even call him. I went to mass this morning at L’Église de Saint Didier and the priest kept talking about “la fête des pères.” That, combined with feelings of loneliness and estrangement, pushed me over the edge, and I felt hot tears rolling down my cheeks. Shoot.
I am getting better at understanding Françoise, but it is when I try to speak that I have trouble. It takes me forever to think of how to form the correct verb tense, and I’m always choosing the wrong genders. Françoise is very nice and non-critical, but it is very frustrating for me. I find myself smiling and nodding quite a bit! I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss the Black Hills. I miss my bed. I miss speaking English. All this French has given me an eternal head-ache. This evening, Françoise had a migraine, so I watched The Bridges of Madison County. It was very bizarre because I would see Clint Eastwood and Meryl Streep speak, but hear someone else’s voice.
Tomorrow I have orientation. Then on Tuesday I begin my classes. I am nervous for them, but I’m looking forward to meeting the other students. Only 42 more days. Shoot. I shouldn’t have counted…
6.18.2007
Orientation went slowly. There are 17 other students coming from all sides of the US, but I am the only one from SD or MN. There are 16 girls and 1 guy (I leave an all-girls school to come here!?) and I think at least four students are from Chicago. They all seem pretty nice, and, though I think I’m the youngest, they are at about the same level in their French studies as me. It was relieving to speak some English again, even though we are “highly encouraged” to speak French at all times. We ate lunch at a restaurant on the Rhône before having a walking tour of the city. This evening I spoke with my parents for the first time in two days. I know that’s not a lot, but God, how I’ve missed them! It is weird because this is the first time they have been on vacation without me. After dinner I showed Françoise pictures of my family, friends, and the Black Hills that were on my computer. She seemed to enjoy it, as did I.
6.19.2007
Today I began my classes. The theatre class was very difficult, and I had a trouble understanding the professor. I was a little disappointed because it is much more of a “literature” class than a “theatre” class. We are studying four plays about post-colonial French negritude and analyzing their political, historical, and social contexts—not exactly my idea of fun. I then sat in on the history class and found it to be very interesting. The professor described it as a basic history class for American students to learn what the French are taught in grade school, and this course covers post-WWII French History. The professor was very easy to understand—not to mention nice to look at!—so I am considering dropping either my theatre or archeology/architecture class and taking this one instead. I guess I will wait and see until tomorrow when I have my first class in archeology/architecture. This evening I made myself dinner because Françoise had a late dinner meeting. Then I watched Grey’s Anatomy on the télé. It had been re-dubbed in French, but I got to see some of the episodes I had missed this past year.
6.20.2007
I attended the Archeology and Architecture class this morning to see how I’d like it. It was three hours long, with an hour break for lunch in between. The prof was a rather boring and seemed disappointed when he found out how few of us had any background in ancient history and/or architecture. In the afternoon, I had a meeting with the director of the Institute, and I decided to take the Theatre and the History courses. While the archeology/architecture one would be cool because you get to go on 3 “excursions” to ancient ruins in the area, I knew it would be a real struggle for me, as I know nothing about Roman history or that of the Middle Ages (the areas of focus for this class).
6.21.2007
Today was the “Fête de la Musique.” Throughout the city, there were over 50 free concerts in the streets, playing all genres of music. I heard everything, including classical French opera, ska, techno, reggae, and even Native American tribal music. It was peculiar to see the influence that the American culture has had on their music. I heard really bad covers of “Hey Oh,” “Play the Funky Music White Guy,” and several Zeppelin and Bob Dylan songs. I went to the festival with two other girls in the program, and we had a fun time. Unfortunately, they were not the dancing types, and since they were very tired, we decided to turn in early. I got home around 11:30 pm—about an hour before my 60-something-year-old hostess. Wow, I am SUCH an old lady.
Because I decided to take the History class and Theatre class, my schedule is rather wonky. On Monday and Tuesday I have class for 4 hours straight. Ugh. At least there’s a gap between the two on Wednesday and Thursday, and on Friday (tomorrow) I don’t have class at all. That will be nice.
6.22.2007
I slept in a bit this morning and got to the Institute around 10 am to do use the internet and to do some reading form my theatre class. Since I do not have class on Fridays, I could potentially take the three-day weekend to travel. However, I have no contacts in France, other than André and Danielle, and I’m a little hesitant to just hop on a train without having any plans. Not to mention, the train tickets aren’t so cheap, either. Part of me feels like I am not making the most of my time here. There is so much to see and by staying in Avignon, I am “missing out” on everything else. But then again, simply being in France in the first place is sort of a spontaneous adventure.
This afternoon I went for a walk through the centre-ville and decided that I really enjoy being by myself sometimes. It’s nice to be able to go where I want and pass as much time as I care to spend. After dinner this evening, I turned on the télé, but none of the 5 channels caught my fancy. Ergo, I did a bit more homework…and this is how I spend my Friday nights?!
6.23.2007
This Saturday, I went to Cassis, a little sea-side town east of Marseille. It was organized through IAU, and we took a bus for the 1.5-hour drive down. Once at Cassis, we took a boat out on the Mediterranean to see the “calanques.” All along the coast are large, white cliffs which form little inlet/cove areas (the calanques) where the water is incredibly clear. It was beautiful. The boat ride was quite enjoyable as well, the sea breeze in my hair and the sun in my skin! After lunch, we lounged about on the beach. I got some color while reading my book, although I wasn’t gutsy enough to go topless like several of the French women there!
When I returned to Avignon, I came back to Françoise’s apartment and had dinner. She made chicken and said, “Now you Americans eat a lot of Chicken, right?” I explained to her that growing up in the Midwest, my family ate more red meat because we would raise our own cattle. She then told me that she never bought any meat that was not raised in France. While I haven’t been eating much meat recently, anyway, I was happy to learn this.
Later in the evening, I met some of the other students at the Irish pub. Now, I’m not one for Guinness, so I ordered a glass of red wine instead. We sat outside talking and then decided to play 10 Fingers (aka Never Have I Ever…). It’s kind of like truth-or-truth. Each person holds out their 10 fingers, and then takes turns going around saying something he/she has never done. If you have done it, you put a finger down. Well, as the night went on, I began to learn more than I cared to know about some people! I didn’t stay out all night, though, because I had to walk home, and we live in a somewhat sketchy area outside the city walls. I walked back with a girl who lives a couple blocks down from me, and within that 15-minute walk, we were whistled at, honked at, yelled at, and waved at. And we were both dressed very modestly too. What has become of this world?!
It is strange to think an entire week has gone by. In 5 more weeks I will be done with school and making my way home. Nothing makes me appreciate home more than being away. Finally, I will be able to sleep in my own bed …for a couple weeks, anyway. (The mattress I’m sleeping on now must be 100 years old—not so comfortable for my rigid, old back!)
We got up early this morning, finished packing, and had one last meal together. Then we made our way to the train station in Toulons—to his credit, dad does a remarkable job of driving like a Frenchman—where the fam saw me on the train to Avignon. It was bittersweet having them there because I’m so awkward with goodbyes, and I didn’t really want to leave them. Once on the train, a nice English chap helped me find a spot for my suitcase and I found my seat. It was a short trip, so after I finished my lunch of cheese and crackers, I had arrived. Barbara, a secretary from the Institute, met me at the station and introduced me to my “hote d’acceuil,” Mme Françoise Tutiau. She is an older lady, in her 60’s perhaps, who lives alone and hosts students throughout the year. Françoise drove me to her 5th-floor apartment (which is really the 6th floor because they don’t count the ground floor in France), just outside of the city walls. I got settled and unpacked my things a bit before she took me for a long walk around town. We came back and she prepared dinner: salad of lettuce, tomato, egg, and tuna; plain noodles with some grated cheese; a cheese course; and fresh strawberries for dessert. I was a little disappointed when she served me about one ounce of red wine, but then I tasted it and was glad not to have to drink more than that. It was definitely in the “cooking wine” category! Before turning in for the night, I watched a little T.V., but didn’t understand much.
6.17.2007
Today is Father’s Day, and for the third year in a row, I will not see my father. Unlike the past two, however, I can’t even call him. I went to mass this morning at L’Église de Saint Didier and the priest kept talking about “la fête des pères.” That, combined with feelings of loneliness and estrangement, pushed me over the edge, and I felt hot tears rolling down my cheeks. Shoot.
I am getting better at understanding Françoise, but it is when I try to speak that I have trouble. It takes me forever to think of how to form the correct verb tense, and I’m always choosing the wrong genders. Françoise is very nice and non-critical, but it is very frustrating for me. I find myself smiling and nodding quite a bit! I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss the Black Hills. I miss my bed. I miss speaking English. All this French has given me an eternal head-ache. This evening, Françoise had a migraine, so I watched The Bridges of Madison County. It was very bizarre because I would see Clint Eastwood and Meryl Streep speak, but hear someone else’s voice.
Tomorrow I have orientation. Then on Tuesday I begin my classes. I am nervous for them, but I’m looking forward to meeting the other students. Only 42 more days. Shoot. I shouldn’t have counted…
6.18.2007
Orientation went slowly. There are 17 other students coming from all sides of the US, but I am the only one from SD or MN. There are 16 girls and 1 guy (I leave an all-girls school to come here!?) and I think at least four students are from Chicago. They all seem pretty nice, and, though I think I’m the youngest, they are at about the same level in their French studies as me. It was relieving to speak some English again, even though we are “highly encouraged” to speak French at all times. We ate lunch at a restaurant on the Rhône before having a walking tour of the city. This evening I spoke with my parents for the first time in two days. I know that’s not a lot, but God, how I’ve missed them! It is weird because this is the first time they have been on vacation without me. After dinner I showed Françoise pictures of my family, friends, and the Black Hills that were on my computer. She seemed to enjoy it, as did I.
6.19.2007
Today I began my classes. The theatre class was very difficult, and I had a trouble understanding the professor. I was a little disappointed because it is much more of a “literature” class than a “theatre” class. We are studying four plays about post-colonial French negritude and analyzing their political, historical, and social contexts—not exactly my idea of fun. I then sat in on the history class and found it to be very interesting. The professor described it as a basic history class for American students to learn what the French are taught in grade school, and this course covers post-WWII French History. The professor was very easy to understand—not to mention nice to look at!—so I am considering dropping either my theatre or archeology/architecture class and taking this one instead. I guess I will wait and see until tomorrow when I have my first class in archeology/architecture. This evening I made myself dinner because Françoise had a late dinner meeting. Then I watched Grey’s Anatomy on the télé. It had been re-dubbed in French, but I got to see some of the episodes I had missed this past year.
6.20.2007
I attended the Archeology and Architecture class this morning to see how I’d like it. It was three hours long, with an hour break for lunch in between. The prof was a rather boring and seemed disappointed when he found out how few of us had any background in ancient history and/or architecture. In the afternoon, I had a meeting with the director of the Institute, and I decided to take the Theatre and the History courses. While the archeology/architecture one would be cool because you get to go on 3 “excursions” to ancient ruins in the area, I knew it would be a real struggle for me, as I know nothing about Roman history or that of the Middle Ages (the areas of focus for this class).
6.21.2007
Today was the “Fête de la Musique.” Throughout the city, there were over 50 free concerts in the streets, playing all genres of music. I heard everything, including classical French opera, ska, techno, reggae, and even Native American tribal music. It was peculiar to see the influence that the American culture has had on their music. I heard really bad covers of “Hey Oh,” “Play the Funky Music White Guy,” and several Zeppelin and Bob Dylan songs. I went to the festival with two other girls in the program, and we had a fun time. Unfortunately, they were not the dancing types, and since they were very tired, we decided to turn in early. I got home around 11:30 pm—about an hour before my 60-something-year-old hostess. Wow, I am SUCH an old lady.
Because I decided to take the History class and Theatre class, my schedule is rather wonky. On Monday and Tuesday I have class for 4 hours straight. Ugh. At least there’s a gap between the two on Wednesday and Thursday, and on Friday (tomorrow) I don’t have class at all. That will be nice.
6.22.2007
I slept in a bit this morning and got to the Institute around 10 am to do use the internet and to do some reading form my theatre class. Since I do not have class on Fridays, I could potentially take the three-day weekend to travel. However, I have no contacts in France, other than André and Danielle, and I’m a little hesitant to just hop on a train without having any plans. Not to mention, the train tickets aren’t so cheap, either. Part of me feels like I am not making the most of my time here. There is so much to see and by staying in Avignon, I am “missing out” on everything else. But then again, simply being in France in the first place is sort of a spontaneous adventure.
This afternoon I went for a walk through the centre-ville and decided that I really enjoy being by myself sometimes. It’s nice to be able to go where I want and pass as much time as I care to spend. After dinner this evening, I turned on the télé, but none of the 5 channels caught my fancy. Ergo, I did a bit more homework…and this is how I spend my Friday nights?!
6.23.2007
This Saturday, I went to Cassis, a little sea-side town east of Marseille. It was organized through IAU, and we took a bus for the 1.5-hour drive down. Once at Cassis, we took a boat out on the Mediterranean to see the “calanques.” All along the coast are large, white cliffs which form little inlet/cove areas (the calanques) where the water is incredibly clear. It was beautiful. The boat ride was quite enjoyable as well, the sea breeze in my hair and the sun in my skin! After lunch, we lounged about on the beach. I got some color while reading my book, although I wasn’t gutsy enough to go topless like several of the French women there!
When I returned to Avignon, I came back to Françoise’s apartment and had dinner. She made chicken and said, “Now you Americans eat a lot of Chicken, right?” I explained to her that growing up in the Midwest, my family ate more red meat because we would raise our own cattle. She then told me that she never bought any meat that was not raised in France. While I haven’t been eating much meat recently, anyway, I was happy to learn this.
Later in the evening, I met some of the other students at the Irish pub. Now, I’m not one for Guinness, so I ordered a glass of red wine instead. We sat outside talking and then decided to play 10 Fingers (aka Never Have I Ever…). It’s kind of like truth-or-truth. Each person holds out their 10 fingers, and then takes turns going around saying something he/she has never done. If you have done it, you put a finger down. Well, as the night went on, I began to learn more than I cared to know about some people! I didn’t stay out all night, though, because I had to walk home, and we live in a somewhat sketchy area outside the city walls. I walked back with a girl who lives a couple blocks down from me, and within that 15-minute walk, we were whistled at, honked at, yelled at, and waved at. And we were both dressed very modestly too. What has become of this world?!
It is strange to think an entire week has gone by. In 5 more weeks I will be done with school and making my way home. Nothing makes me appreciate home more than being away. Finally, I will be able to sleep in my own bed …for a couple weeks, anyway. (The mattress I’m sleeping on now must be 100 years old—not so comfortable for my rigid, old back!)
FRANCE, part 1
6.9/10.2007
Thus begins an adventure… Today I arrived in Nice, France, with my mum, dad, and sister. We rented a car and, with some difficulty (we drove around our hotel at least 3 times before turning on the correct one-way streets), made our way to the Hotel Splendid where dad performed the impossible in parallel parking. Checking in rather late in the evening, we then had dinner at a little restaurant down the street. It was exciting to speak French and show my dad that I have not “wasted” the past five years of my life by learning it. ; )
6.11.2007
Today was a beautiful day. We spent the morning in Nice, exploring the city. I showed my family the market in La Vieille Ville (the old part of town), and then we had lunch at a “brasserie.” For the afternoon, I suggested a drive to Monaco. Well, we never did make it there because by the time we reached the ancient Renaissance village of Eze, we were all quite ready to get out of the car! (The roads are extremely circuitous and steep, just like in the Grace Kelly and Carry Grand flick, To Catch a Thief, and we had a couple of close calls; in fact, I think Grace Kelly died in an auto accident on that road when her car plunged down the cliff…) After taking in the breath-taking vista, we had dinner at Le Blanc Cheval and then made our way back down to Nice—fortunately, a much safer and more relaxed journey.
6.12.2007
This morning we packed up the car and drove to Cagnes-Sur-Mer, the town east of Nice where my home-stay family from my trip last April lives. Unfortunately, they were not home when we stopped by, so I left a note in their door. I showed my family around as best I could and then we stopped at a café for some refreshing wine. As we were walking back down the hill to our car, sure enough, we met André walking up the hill! Being the generous people they are, André and Danielle invited us in for a lunch-time feast. Danielle made a tart of tomatoes and gruyere, some rouget (fish) sautéed in olive oil and basil, pasta, and salad. Of course, we also had champagne, some red wine from André’s vineyard of which he is part-owner, and coffee. Dad, as I had predicted, became instant friends with André and they talked about wine a great deal. He showed us his hidden treasure—an old well underneath their 300 year-old house that he has transformed into a wine cellar—and dad was like a kid in a candy store! As an aperitif, André poured us his own version of Limoncello, which he calls Mandarincello, as he makes it from Mandarin oranges. It was superb. Before parting, André gave my family the proper tour of the village—something he is very good at and enjoys doing. We then drove to Bormes les Mimosas, the village where we have an apartment rented for the next 4 nights. After unpacking a bit, we wondered up the narrow and steep streets—a characteristic of all ancient French villages, I’m beginning to notice—and ate another fabulous meal, though nothing can beat Danielle’s cooking!
6.13.2007
Apparently we were really tired from our travels, as we did not get up until 11:30 this morning! After having some breakfast/lunch at a crêperie, we went for a long walk down the hill to an épicerie so that dad could get the ingredients to make the tart that Danielle had made us yesterday. It was great fun to look around the grocery store and notice the differences (and similarities) in products. I even found some Fair Trade coffee which we bought for tomorrow’s breakfast! I was pretty excited. In the late afternoon, dad tried replicating Danielle’s tart, but, while it didn’t taste bad, he hasn’t quite got the recipe down yet. We had dinner at another little local restaurant, where the waiter was very friendly. He gave us all free apertifs—Pastis for dad and Dramboue (a Scottish whisky with a touch of honey flavor) for mum, Aisling, and I. Upon returning to the apartment, I beat mum and Aish in cards—a perfect ending to a good day, if I do say so!
6.14.2007
For breakfast this morning, mum and I walked to a patisserie and brought back some pastries to eat with our morning coffee. The rest of the morning was spent relaxing. In the afternoon, dad and Aisling played tennis at the local club. She hauled two rackets with her on the airplane, so she was bound and determined to play. For dinner, we drove to Le Lavandou and went to a restaurant across from the Mediterranean. It has cooled off significantly and looks as though a storm may be passing through.
6.15.2007
Mum and I went out to get our pastries this morning just before it started raining. When we returned, Aisling had yet to wake up, so I gave her a nice wack with a stale baguette and that got her up! It still took a pain au chocolat and a cup of coffee before she really got moving, though. We hopped in the car and drove to a nearby hotel to connect with the outside world for the first time on our vacation—a record, by far—via the internet. This took us until 1 pm! While it is nice to stay in touch with family and friends, it is a double-edged sword. The afternoon was spent visiting a total of 4 vineyards. At each one, dad tasted and bought at least one bottle. It was fun at first, but by the fourth one, I was getting a bit tired of translating for him. After stopping for lunch in La Londe, we went for a stroll along the beach. It was the perfect weather—sunny and warm, with a refreshing sea breeze. Mum found all kinds of angel and mermaid tears (sea glass), which we’re going to take back and turn into jewelry.
When we got back to Bormes les Mimosas, we made reservations for dinner at a restaurant that was in a sort of grotto—very beautiful and quaint. Our last night together in France, we went all out. Champagne was ordered, and the rest of the evening was, needless to say, perfect. The waiter brought us “petits surprises,” before our main course was served. For my main course, I had a salad of mixed greens and long strips of zucchini which surrounded a pâté made up of layers of peanut confit, tomato, and chèvre. That, paired with a white wine from a vineyard that we had visited earlier in the day, made for a culinary delight! It has been a wonderful week, and I feel so blessed to have been able to spend it with my family. Dad keeps raving about the Riviera. He loves everything about it and is already planning his next trip—curious to hear from a man who supposedly hated everything French! I am nervous to leave for Avignon tomorrow, but I know everything will work out. I just have to trust that it will…
Thus begins an adventure… Today I arrived in Nice, France, with my mum, dad, and sister. We rented a car and, with some difficulty (we drove around our hotel at least 3 times before turning on the correct one-way streets), made our way to the Hotel Splendid where dad performed the impossible in parallel parking. Checking in rather late in the evening, we then had dinner at a little restaurant down the street. It was exciting to speak French and show my dad that I have not “wasted” the past five years of my life by learning it. ; )
6.11.2007
Today was a beautiful day. We spent the morning in Nice, exploring the city. I showed my family the market in La Vieille Ville (the old part of town), and then we had lunch at a “brasserie.” For the afternoon, I suggested a drive to Monaco. Well, we never did make it there because by the time we reached the ancient Renaissance village of Eze, we were all quite ready to get out of the car! (The roads are extremely circuitous and steep, just like in the Grace Kelly and Carry Grand flick, To Catch a Thief, and we had a couple of close calls; in fact, I think Grace Kelly died in an auto accident on that road when her car plunged down the cliff…) After taking in the breath-taking vista, we had dinner at Le Blanc Cheval and then made our way back down to Nice—fortunately, a much safer and more relaxed journey.
6.12.2007
This morning we packed up the car and drove to Cagnes-Sur-Mer, the town east of Nice where my home-stay family from my trip last April lives. Unfortunately, they were not home when we stopped by, so I left a note in their door. I showed my family around as best I could and then we stopped at a café for some refreshing wine. As we were walking back down the hill to our car, sure enough, we met André walking up the hill! Being the generous people they are, André and Danielle invited us in for a lunch-time feast. Danielle made a tart of tomatoes and gruyere, some rouget (fish) sautéed in olive oil and basil, pasta, and salad. Of course, we also had champagne, some red wine from André’s vineyard of which he is part-owner, and coffee. Dad, as I had predicted, became instant friends with André and they talked about wine a great deal. He showed us his hidden treasure—an old well underneath their 300 year-old house that he has transformed into a wine cellar—and dad was like a kid in a candy store! As an aperitif, André poured us his own version of Limoncello, which he calls Mandarincello, as he makes it from Mandarin oranges. It was superb. Before parting, André gave my family the proper tour of the village—something he is very good at and enjoys doing. We then drove to Bormes les Mimosas, the village where we have an apartment rented for the next 4 nights. After unpacking a bit, we wondered up the narrow and steep streets—a characteristic of all ancient French villages, I’m beginning to notice—and ate another fabulous meal, though nothing can beat Danielle’s cooking!
6.13.2007
Apparently we were really tired from our travels, as we did not get up until 11:30 this morning! After having some breakfast/lunch at a crêperie, we went for a long walk down the hill to an épicerie so that dad could get the ingredients to make the tart that Danielle had made us yesterday. It was great fun to look around the grocery store and notice the differences (and similarities) in products. I even found some Fair Trade coffee which we bought for tomorrow’s breakfast! I was pretty excited. In the late afternoon, dad tried replicating Danielle’s tart, but, while it didn’t taste bad, he hasn’t quite got the recipe down yet. We had dinner at another little local restaurant, where the waiter was very friendly. He gave us all free apertifs—Pastis for dad and Dramboue (a Scottish whisky with a touch of honey flavor) for mum, Aisling, and I. Upon returning to the apartment, I beat mum and Aish in cards—a perfect ending to a good day, if I do say so!
6.14.2007
For breakfast this morning, mum and I walked to a patisserie and brought back some pastries to eat with our morning coffee. The rest of the morning was spent relaxing. In the afternoon, dad and Aisling played tennis at the local club. She hauled two rackets with her on the airplane, so she was bound and determined to play. For dinner, we drove to Le Lavandou and went to a restaurant across from the Mediterranean. It has cooled off significantly and looks as though a storm may be passing through.
6.15.2007
Mum and I went out to get our pastries this morning just before it started raining. When we returned, Aisling had yet to wake up, so I gave her a nice wack with a stale baguette and that got her up! It still took a pain au chocolat and a cup of coffee before she really got moving, though. We hopped in the car and drove to a nearby hotel to connect with the outside world for the first time on our vacation—a record, by far—via the internet. This took us until 1 pm! While it is nice to stay in touch with family and friends, it is a double-edged sword. The afternoon was spent visiting a total of 4 vineyards. At each one, dad tasted and bought at least one bottle. It was fun at first, but by the fourth one, I was getting a bit tired of translating for him. After stopping for lunch in La Londe, we went for a stroll along the beach. It was the perfect weather—sunny and warm, with a refreshing sea breeze. Mum found all kinds of angel and mermaid tears (sea glass), which we’re going to take back and turn into jewelry.
When we got back to Bormes les Mimosas, we made reservations for dinner at a restaurant that was in a sort of grotto—very beautiful and quaint. Our last night together in France, we went all out. Champagne was ordered, and the rest of the evening was, needless to say, perfect. The waiter brought us “petits surprises,” before our main course was served. For my main course, I had a salad of mixed greens and long strips of zucchini which surrounded a pâté made up of layers of peanut confit, tomato, and chèvre. That, paired with a white wine from a vineyard that we had visited earlier in the day, made for a culinary delight! It has been a wonderful week, and I feel so blessed to have been able to spend it with my family. Dad keeps raving about the Riviera. He loves everything about it and is already planning his next trip—curious to hear from a man who supposedly hated everything French! I am nervous to leave for Avignon tomorrow, but I know everything will work out. I just have to trust that it will…
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)