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.