I saw a French chicken cross the road...and other musings.

Bonjour, toute le monde.

Just thought I would give an update: I've returned from France and am already homesick for it. A friend of mine wrote the other day about the UK, that she has a "longing, for a little set of isles I've yearned to visit since I was a wee girl; a place on which I've never set foot but somehow feels like Home."  I feel similarly about France...though I didn't spend a lot of time there, it is home.  

Anyway, one horrible thing about France is the Charles De Gaul airport~I was stuck there for three hours because our plane was late.  Not only was I stuck there, but apparently an efficient security system is completely beyond their realm of comprehension.  In the States, there might be two large lines and then ten or fifteen security checks for people to go through.  At the Paris airport, there's just a mass of people waiting to go through two security check points.  The worst part, though, is that once you actually get through the security checkpoint, there is only one snack bar for the entire terminal, with just one person behind the counter.  I think that was one of the only times I muttered, "This is so typically French" and meant it in a completely negative way.    

I am now home safe and sound, luggage intact, and was only awake for 28 hours straight on my travel "day."  I posted  a few new photos (of my host family and some friends) at the end of this album.

Now to a few days of doing what I love: reading books (currently The Code of the Woosters and Economic Policy), newspapers, laughing with my family, cooking, catching up with friends, and listening to my latest favorite song, by an Aussie band.  

One last funny anecdote: on the way to Fletcher's house this week, a chicken crossed the road. This was funny for three reasons.  First, it was the only chicken I've ever seen cross a road. Second, at lunch one day, we all had been reading The Book of General Ignorance, in which we learned that a chicken with its head cut off can live (and thrive) for five years. Finally, I found myself actually wondering (before I thought about the joke) why it crossed the road.  I mean, really, why would a chicken ever need to cross a road? 

The other day I read (in the Book of General Ignorance) the best quote by Lord Keynes: "My only regret in life is that I did not drink more champagne."

Until the next time, 

Marguerite. 

"Falling" by Macalmont and Butler.

The British Open.

Bonsoir, toute le monde.

Yesterday, my friend Fletcher called and said, "I'm coming to pick you up, but Tomtom [his GPS system] just told me I have to turn around, so it'll probably be like ten minutes."  In Fletcher time, that's like twenty minutes.  But eventually, he and I and two of our friends wound up at his parents house for the afternoon and evening.  We had a great time: it involved ping-pong, dominoes, heavy doses of Paul Simon, The Kooks, and a song called See You Again.  We also had lunch (we had some amazingly hot mustard, of which I've become a huge fan) and Fletcher's signature drink, the "Tropical Thunderstorm" (dark rum, coconut rum, mango-orange juice, and tonic).  I could leave it at that, and you would probably think we were pretty cool (minus See You Again), but I have to confess that we sat around for a good portion of the afternoon reading Herald Tribunes and watching the British Open (I'm a bit sad that Greg Norman didn't win...but how cool is it that Harrington is defending the British Open~has that even happened before?).  Anyway, we had a great time, and I'm playing golf at the oldest golf course in Europe (itwas established in 1856) on Friday, because Fletcher needs someone he can actually beat at golf (that would be me).  True story: I actually have a golf course appropriate outfit here in Pau, too, so that's a happy coincidence.

Just thought I would give you an update on my Sunday in France.  

Love, 

Marguerite.

The day I bought a beret.

Bonjour, mes amis.

Yesterday, we went to the Parc National des Pyrenees and hiked to Lac de Gaube.  It was a beautiful day, as you can see from these photos.  

Before the hike, we went to the Musee du beret, which I had thought was going to be lame.  It wasn't.  We watched a video about the history of the beret, which was really informative.  There are only two authentic beret factories left in France.  One in Nay (where we were yesterday), and one in the town where we went whitewater rafting.  They stay in business mostly because of army orders (the French army orders berets for their uniforms, as do some African armies, as well as some sects of the US army), as well as individual buyers.  Different berets are specific to different regions in France (although now people wear whichever one looks best). For example, berets from Corse are wider because there is a lot of sun there.  There are three traditional colors of the french beret~black, navy, and brown (and red for some special occasions).  The video we watched also interviewed people about the beret, which was so adorable that I wanted to steal the dvd out of the player so I could watch it again (don't worry, I restrained myself).  There was one elderly gentleman who told a story about the beret.  He said (with a really thick southern french accent) that when you're little, you get a little beret and steal cherries with it, and when you're an adult, you get a big beret so you can beat the kid who stole the cherries.  

We also learned about the process of manufacturing the beret.  It's knit by a machine in a circular motion, and then shrunk in hot water and soap.  After that, it's dried, and then all the little nubs are brushed off with a rotating bristle brush machine.  Then it's inspected, and then they add the official silk lining and symbol, to show it's an authentic beret.  After that, they add leather strips to it, to help it maintain its shape, and then a red bow to indicate the back brim from the front.  The authentic ones are completely waterproof and practically indestructible.   

Of course I bought one.  I'm going to wear it all the time, I've decided.

Marguerite.

Rafting helmets: the universal equalizer.

Bonsoir, mes amis.

I hope all is well on the other side of the pond.

I had a first today: I went whitewater rafting in the Pyrenees. You may wonder, "Was it as cool as it sounds?" The response is a resounding yes. Not only did I go whitewater rafting, I also jumped down a waterfall (it was only about three meters~no, I can't convert to yards~high, but it was cool just the same).

Remember how I said that my new dream summer job is to be a journalist who follows the Tour de France? Scratch that. I want to be a whitewater rafting guide. They just whitewater raft all day, get a great tan, and meet lot of cool people (like our group, obviously). It also helps that the guides we had were really cute french boys, which made the job seem extra-appealling.

The only downside to the day was that we all had to wear ridiculous outfits: wetsuits, watershoes, enormous lifevests, and helmets. Wetsuits flatter no one (I repeat, no one), watershoes are squelchy and ugly, these particular lifevests were red and absolutely enormous (we all looked like the Pilsbury dough boy's lobster cousins), and the helmets were plastic (they looked like those helmets you put on kids who are, you know, special) and came in pale pink, pale blue, or florescent yellow). Rafting outfits are definitely bonding and equalizing apparel.

A+,

Marguerite.

Funniest thing ever.

Bonsoir, 

J'ai une petite histoire:

My host dad got back from rockclimbing tonight (the rest of the family is on holiday) around 23h45 (11:45) and he helped me with my French presentation (he thought it was funny that I thought the humor in "Asterix et Obelix" was "typically French"), until about 00h15 (12:15), while listening to some techno-esque music.  We then said goodnight, and I went into my room. For about the next fifteen minutes or so, he blasted the music and sang to it (he's something of an aspiring musician, though he can neither play the guitar nor sing very well).  It was the funniest thing ever.  

Marguerite. 

Une petite poignée (a small smattering).

Bonjour, mes amis. 

Just a quick note. 

I've finally had a moment to upload some pictures onto Facebook (some old Paris pictures, some new Biarritz photos from our trip this weekend, and a photo of me and my teacher from the first summer session).  

I started the long and frustrating process of packing/freaking out about my luggage not arriving back in the States (we've had four different students lose their luggage or have it arrive late with things missing from it).  Somehow, even though I didn't buy a lot of things, I managed to fill a second duffel bag (!).  Also, I neglected to bring a luggage scale, and the only scale I can find in the house is (obviously) in kilos, so that doesn't help me much.  So complicated.

I'm off to pack for this weekend (mountain hiking and white-water-rafting), and finish my chorizo and boursin baguette sandwich, which I am having for dinner.  

One last thing: I heard a cute song today in my History of French Song class, by Gerard Lenorman, called Si j'etais president.

Marguerite. 

I don't even know how to categorize this.

Bonjour, mes amis.


Before I launch into my saga, I just had the most mortifying experience. I attempted to order pizza (for delivery) for dinner (salmon pizza and Spanish chorizo pizza~le saumon et l'espagnole), and I had my little speech all prepared. I called, and the guy who answered acted like I was a complete idiot. It doesn't seem like ordering pizza should be difficult, but you have to give an address, phone number, town, and what you would like (in my case, I needed both of the pizzas without olives). Luckily, the pizza arrived. It's the same thing when you call for taxis~I've simply concluded that communication in a foreign language is more difficult when it's not face-to-face.

Alors, ce lundi, c'etait la Fete de la Nationale (Mondaywas Bastille Day). We were at the starting line for le Tour de France in the morning, c'etait super (it was great). We were so close to the cyclists that we had to be careful not to accidentally touch them. I was with three friends and all of us kept saying (like giddy children), "Guys, we're at the Tour de France!" We didn't stick out as tourists at all. This was the 62nd time the Tour de France has gone through Pau, and this "etape" (chapter, or 'leg') of the route is one of the most challenging in all of the 21 etapes in the race. There was a huge parade preceding the departure of the cyclists, and tons of media coverage. I've decided that my new dream job for a summer is to be a journalist who follows the Tour. There were journalists from all over the world, and camera men were everywhere, climbing trees and lampposts to get a good angle.

One observation: I always thought of the French as quite patriotic, but other than the flags on the castle, no one even said "Happy Fete de la Nationale" or burst out into the national anthem. Everyone was excited for the Tour de France, but no one seemed to care that it was Bastille Day. C'etait un peu bizarre (it was a bit strange).

Metta and I went back to my house after lunch for a small afternoon nap, which turned into a two-hour long nap. The Wednesday before, we had been followed to my house by a strange cat, and when we returned to the bus stop later in the afternoon, the same cat followed us back and sat at the bus stop with us. We thought it was a bit strange, but forgot about it. Sunday night, Metta and I were walking back from the train station late (after our trip to the coast), and the same cat jumped out from nowhere and followed us home. It looked like it wanted to come into the house, so we closed the door behind us and made sure all of the windows and doors were locked (mind you, my host family was still out of town at this point. They had said they would be home on Friday night, but no one arrived until Monday morning, when my host dad showed up and simply said that the rest of the family has decided to stay for an extra week at the coast). Metta went into the restroom, and I was in my room. All of sudden, I heard Metta shreak. I rushed to the restroom, and she simply pointed at the window: the cat was staring in at her through it. A bit later, Metta was brushing her teeth in the bathroom (not the same room as the room with the toilet. In France, there is usually one room with a toilet, and another room with a shower and sink). I heard a loud "Thunk" on the bathroom window and Metta shreaked again. The cat had literally thrown itself against the window, in a vain attempt to get into the house. It then proceeded to spend the night mewing outside of my bedroom window.

Monday, when we returned for our afternoon nap, my host dad had opened up the house, and we saw the same cat roaming around indoors. I asked, "Pascal, that's not our cat, is it?" He simply said, "No, I've never seen it before." The French are so strange. But not half as strange as their cats.

For my french class, Metta and I have to give a thirty-minute presentation on the topic of our choice. I chose Asterix et Obelix, a french comic book. It's really funny, with typically french humor (for example, they make fun of other countries and their languages, comme ca).

That's all for now, but I hope to write more soon,

Marguerite.

Le bus et la pluie.

Bonsoir, mes petites cerises (Good evening, my little cherries). 

J'ai marché à le bus ce matin dans la pluie (I walked to the bus this morning in the rain).  I also carried my super-French black umbrella and sang Aux Champs Elysees to myself.  Everything about the walk is adorable: Other than the stop and yield signs, and the bus stops, there is very little of anything that makes Bizanos twenty-first century-esque.  Quaint, I believe, is the best word.  There is a white gate at the end of my driveway, which I close behind me.  Encircling the perimeter of each home are lakestone and concrete walls (approximately waist-high) over which flowering bushes cascade, so as I walk down the uneven and moss-covered sidewalk, I'm accompanied by different types of foliage.  Each home is unique, and many of them are named (Les Mimosas and Laurets, for example).  Rather than yellow stripes down the middle of the road, there is a strip of concrete (approximately a foot wide) inlaid with lakestones which graces the winding road.  Obviously, there are cars and bicycles, but I only see maybe ten cars and four cyclists throughout the whole seven-minute walk. I live in a very quiet village.  

I share the bus with four or five other regulars, two of whom are especially worth noting. There's an elderly gentleman I usually see in the afternoons on my ride home.  He's waif-like, but far from delicate (I can tell by his practical walking shoes and the way he hops off of the bus). He sits up very straight on the bus and reads the paper most of the time.  He purses his lips and opens his eyes in a way that makes him look like he's surprised, a little awed, and quite amused~all at once. When he hops off of the bus, he clasps his hands behind him and walks slowly homeward, bent forward a little by age.  I like to think he has an adorably petite wife waiting for him there, with white hair piled high, blue eyes, and red lipstick.  

There's a woman who rides the bus almost everyday to market (I can tell by her grocery basket).  She's quite old, and has definitely spent her life as a housewife here in southern France. She always wears a skirt, pantyhose, and shoes with a practical little heel on them.  The funny thing, though, is that they don't make her the least bit glamorous.  She usually wears some sort of house sweater or old rain slicker, too.  There's nothing physically attractive about her, but she has bright blue eyes that continually smile.  Her nose smiles, too.  She greets the entire bus with a cheerful, heavily southern "Bonjour," and thanks the bus driver as she leaves with a gusty "Merci, Monsieur!"  She calls me "Mademoiselle."  We try to talk sometimes, but her accent is so strong that I usually don't understand what she's saying.  That's ok, though~she gossips with the other older ladies on the bus. 

I love ma petite ville (my little town).  

I especially love it because of what happened today.  My host family was supposed to get back from the coast last night, but they've apparently decided to stay on for an extra day (or two, we'll see...).  Anyway, at about  19h00 (seven o'clock) this evening, there was a loud knock at the door.  When I answered it, there was a woman who looked to be about sixty or so, wearing a skirt and a rainslicker, and carrying a navy blue umbrella.  She is my neighbor, and she came to check in on me, like my host mom had asked her to do.  We had a little conversation (all in French~yay), and she said that she had tried to come earlier in the week and I wasn't there. She wanted to know if I wanted to join them for dinner.  She was adorable.  I thanked her and she said if I needed anything to just come over and knock.  

I guess that's all for now.  

The only other other bit of exciting news is that I had pizza for lunch today at a little pizzeria downtown~it had ham, onions, cheese, tomato sauce, and an egg on it.  It was really good, but made me remember how much I'm looking forward to some New York style pizza when I get home.  

A bit of sad news: I'm in desperate need of a pedicure. 

Marguerite.

Douce France

Bonjour!

Monday is La Fete Nationale (Bastille Day) here in France, and the Tour de France happens to come through Pau that day.  The weather is perfect (for me, anyway, which means it's overcast and cool...), it's a long weekend, we're going to la mer (the coast), and I learned a new song (which we all sang today at our Apertif~basically a free lunch so all of the students can get to know one another better).  Then I had pistachio ice cream while I finished some shopping.  It was a good day.  Vive la France!  

It was my resolution to decide what to do with my life while here in France this summer (note my use of the past tense).  In lieu of doing that, I've culturally assimilated to a French attitude, summed up in this phrase: "Eh, ce n'est pas grave."  It literally means "It's not serious," but the attitude is one of laissez-faire~life will just happen, and that's okay.  C'est la vie.  I can't explain it very well (both my English and French are failing me), but it's the prevailing attitude here in the south of France.  

You missed the bus?  There's another one coming in a half-hour.  

You forgot your umbrella?  You'll just get wet.  

You were late for class?  I hope you gave an acceptable white lie. 

You have a deadline to meet?  Do it later, it's time for dejeuner.

It's almost time to resume class after our break?  Let's finish our conversation first.

You ruined that crepe?  No one cares.

You need a taxi tout de suite?  One will be there in twenty minutes.

You've had too much wine?  Have another glass. 

My favorite taxi driver here in Pau is a good example.  I was trying to say something in French to him, and he stopped me with a smile and said (in French, obviously), "Slow down~enjoy the words.  We have the time. Here, we like our language.  Say the words, don't just use them."

Everything is very calm and sensible here.  They do get rather heated about politics, though.

Marguerite.  

Crepes

Bon soir, mes amis.

Ingrid Betancourt's release has been getting major press here in France. It's moving to observe the country rally around one of its daughters, and give her the attention and honor she deserves.

Metta (pictured in the previous post completely asleep next to me on the train) made me listen to a song at lunch today, and I almost cried into my gruyere omelette. However, things are looking brighter after tonight. We had "cooking class" at Metta's host mom's house tonight, and she taught us how to make crepes~I learned how to have two pans of crepes going at the same time! Her host mom calls us "mes filles" ("my girls"). I love being at her house, because it's really cozy and I feel comfortable enough to go barefoot in the house. She's divorced, and her kids are older teens and kind of "lead their own lives," as it were, but she loves to cook and talk with us (I think she likes having us around the house~I have to admit, we are kind of fun). She has a sixteen-year-old daughter (Marlin) who's really adorable, too. She doesn't talk much, but when you engage her in conversation, she smiles and talks a lot~we had a good conversation about shoes tonight.

We made ham and cheese crepes for dinner, and then had dessert crepes with glace (ice cream) and chocolate sauce. As Metta and I were making crepes, we needed to count them to know if we had enough crepes saveur (savory crepes), so we could add the sugar to make crepes sucree (sugar crepes). She counted, and said, "Only seven? It was seven, like, two crepes ago." You know you've been in France for a long time when you start counting in crepes.

We've finished with most of the important devoir (homework) tonight, so we're going to sleep. The bus comes early. Except when it's late.

Marguerite.

A Mediocre Monday.

Bon soir!

So I may never get around to writing about Paris, but I did post some photos from our excursion to the Pays Basque (Basque Country), which was on Saturday.  I learned a lot, and posted fun facts in the photo captions.  One interesting thing (which I don't think I mentioned in those fun facts) is that there are seven Basque provinces, only three of which are in France (the other five are in Spain).  Bayonne is the capital of one of the French provinces.  We had a quiz on information regarding the pays Basque, and yours truly won it (you could choose your prize, and I chose an apron).  I even know the Basque word for house, "exte" (pronounced "etch").  Now that I've amazed you with my in-depth, apron-winning-worthy knowledge of the pays Basque, back to ordinary July life in Pau.

Now that the weather has turned warmer, the, um, culturally different standard for cleanliness has become pungently obvious.  Here is just one example: I got on the bus this morning, and an enormous man got on at the next stop. Approximately forty seconds after his entry, the entire bus smelled like rotten cheese.  After surviving the rest of that ride, my connecting bus was late, so I arrived at school just on time.  We had an interesting class, and learned about Le Tour de France (which will be coming through Pau on the 14th and 15th of this month).  

A note on Paris:

Steve did send me some pictures he took of our Paris trip, and of the many he took of us sleeping on the train to Versailles, this is the least embarrassing:

I took a lot of pictures (Paris V) of the new grille (gate) that was just restored at Versailles, and found a really interesting in Le Point (like our Newsweek) about it: there is a debate raging right now as to whether or not it was just a big waste of money, because it's so extravagant.  I decided to do one of my French presentations on this debate, because it is an interesting question: should a foundation use its resources to restore golden gates to dead kings' castles, or is the preserving of history a task that should wait for other times?

Marguerite.

  

Une petite pause.

Salut, mes amis.

I have been quite busy since I've returned from Paris~Les Soldes are in full swing, donc (thus, so) I've been forced to do some shopping.  Classes commenced yesterday, too.  They are from 9:30 to 12:30 (last session they began at 9:00), with a one hour phonetiques class twice a week. There are six levels of French to test into, and I tested into the fifth level (I was a bit intimidated, though, so I switched down to four, but it was good to have visible proof that mon francais is improving).  I also have a class on the history of French music this session.  We listened to some Maurice Chevalier, whom I've loved him since I saw In Search of the Castaways quand j'etait petite (when I was little).  My professors are wonderful, mais elles parlent tres vite (but they speak very quickly).  Je crois que cet semestre est plus difficile que le semestre dernier (I think that this semester is more difficult than last semester), but that can only do good things for my French.

I promise to write about my time in Paris sometime soon, but it's a bit intimidating to write about such a beloved city; so much has already been eloquently written.  However, I did take pictures, and many of the captions have fun facts (I'm a terrible photographer, though, so my photos don't do the city justice).  The album names are proof of my creativity: Paris, Paris II, Paris III, Paris IV, Paris V, and Paris VI (I posted all of the photos I took so I could delete my memory card--please don't feel obligated to look through all of them, or be as fascinated by chandeliers as I am).  

My host dad's parents are in town this week, so we had a long dinner yesterday.  There would be nothing interesting to report if it hadn't been such a light meal (the big meal of the day in France is dejeuner, or lunch, and dinners tend to be light).  They kept refilling my glass with some sort of aperetif from Portugal, and I couldn't really refuse~though I tried! However, I was already completely exhausted from the day, and kept getting sleepier and sleepier.  My french comprehension took a nosedive after my third glass of it.  Pascal's father was impressive, though.  Whereas I would sip my glass, in hopes that it wouldn't get refilled (it was really good, but I can't drink too much), he would pour a glass and then drink the whole thing like a shot.  It would have been completely inappropriate for me to leave before dessert, so I sat there until about nine o'clock, when we finally finished the apricot tart.  After the meal, Sandrine (my host mom) told me I should go dancing with some of my friends because I "already had a good start on the night."  I laughed.  And then I slept really well.  I do not know how the French can drink so much with such light meals and not be falling out of their chairs.

A+ (A plus, which is an abbreviation for a plus tard, which translates basically as "later"), 

Marguerite. 

Gavarnie (Pyrenees)

Bonjour, mes amis.

I didn't take these three photos (my camera can't capture scope like this), but I did take these.  There was a lot more snow when we were there.  This particular spot is protected by UNESCO as one of the "World Heritage" places in the world.  We hiked to the waterfall (shown here):

By the end of the hike, we had hiked for over four hours.  It was positively gorgeous, but got more difficult the closer we got to the waterfall (from the distance of the photo to the left, we still had to hike for about thirty five minutes to get to the waterfall itself.  The wind was so strong and the air was so cold, that I was drenched in less than twenty seconds when we finally got close to the waterfall.  It made for an uncomfortable walk back.  However, because I was already so dirty and wet, I didn't mind so much when I fell into the stream.  Balance never has been my strongsuit).  

I saw my first herd of mountain goats on that hike, too.  I had always had romanticized, Heidi-like images of herds of mountain goats.  In reality, they really smelled goaty.

We had lunch at a charming lodge in the village.  The chicken was wonderful and very fresh.  One girl got hers and said, slightly horrified, "I got a feather in mine."  She had a similar reaction to Roquefort, "Why did I put it in my mouth?  I knew I didn't like green things."  Not everyone is loving the locally raised/produced food like I am.  

Speaking of food, I found really great yogurt here.  It's produced by a family business in the Pyrenees, and they make yogurt (all different flavors).  There's a picture and description of the farm on the packaging, and it says that one of the brothers in the business is in charge of the milking, and the other of the actual yogurt-making.  It's unpasteurized goodness, and I'm completely addicted.  

The only bad news is that I have two finals tomorrow, and I haven't studied for either of them.  I spent the night last night at a friend's apartment, and because the buses don't run on Sundays, I had to walk home.  It took me an hour and a half, and then I went walking with a friend of mine.  I'm slightly fatigued.  

Last night was France's annual Fete de la Musique and we went dancing afterwards.  The music festival was lots of fun:  It didn't start until after nine o'clock in the evening, and went until two o'clock am.  EVERYONE attends...including families, babies in strollers, gypsies, and dragqueens. 

I had dinner with my family tonight, which was nice--I'm understanding more and more French daily.  Yay.  The little boy and I had a funny exchange all through dinner, he would say, "Merci, Madame" (funny because I'm actually mademoiselle) and I would respond, "De rien, Monsieur" (funny because he's so young).  My host dad and I are going to watch the match du football later. 

Bisous, 

Marguerite.

The most adorable afternoon.

My French class (students and teacher) had lunch together today at a restaurant a cote de campus (close to campus--you spell it with a few accents, but I can't figure out how to add them in this format).  I had an excellent apricot tart for dessert.  The apricots looked like three sunny-side-up eggs.  It was wonderful.     

There's a gentleman  in my French class who is a retired federal judge, and after lunch today, I asked him what his afternoon plans were.  He said he had to go to the train station to cancel a ticket, so I invited him to come with a group of us to the Blue Van (it's on the way to the train station).  The Blue Van, mes amis, is what I will miss most about Pau.  It sells ice cream in the town square.  Not only is it beyond picturesquely adorable, it has the best ice cream in the world. My RFJF (Retired Federal Judge Friend) and I discovered that we share a passion for ice cream and Sherlock Holmes stories, so it didn't take much convincing for him to join our group headed for the centre-ville.  I had une boule (scoop) of citron (lemon) and une boule of framboise (raspberry), and he had chocolate.  We ate our ice cream in the shade, under a huge trellis, which houses a few wrought iron benches (ils sont tres mignon--they are very cute).  After that, we left the group and walked to the train station.  We chatted about Joseph Conrad, military history, the plight of the American farmer, Dickens, and Alfred Hitchcock movies.  One of his hobbies is architecture, and he recommended the book Brunelleschi's Dome.  We also talked about some of the cases he's had throughout his career.  It was so interesting: he would give me the situation and then ask me what I thought, then I would give an answer, and then he would say, "Yes, but what's the next question?"  We would go back and forth, and then he would tell me what he ruled and why.  J'ai trouve un ami!  (I have found a friend!)  

After the train station, we sat outside at a cafe from about 4:30-7:00, and tried a few different kinds of beer.  He has German heritage, so he's something of a beer expert.  Though we both like to drink wine while in France, it was too hot for it this afternoon.  Here in France, it is common for beer to come with some sort of flavored syrup.  We were utterly mystified by the different (often brightly) colored drinks being served, so finally we tried a red one--definitely grenadine.  Not so great.  We had a wonderful afternoon, though, and went our separate ways with plans to search out some restaurants in Paris when we go next week (I should've known we were going to be fast friends when in class the other day, he asked if I had a Michelin guide).  We are both quite grateful for each other's company.  I think he's grateful for some companionship (he eats most of his dinners alone), and I'm certainly grateful to escape the ubiquitous presence of students, especially with someone who is such a gentleman.  He reminds me of my grandfather--utterly brilliant (but self-effacing and diplomatic so you wouldn't know it unless you engage him), excellent conversationalist, and a gentleman through and through. Spending the afternoon with him reminded me of how much I miss the wonderful men in my life--my father, uncles, and brother.  There are only a few male students studying here, and I really miss the company of men!

Tomorrow I'm hiking through the Pyrenees with our group, and will attend France's annual Fete de la Musique in the evening.   

Bisous, 

Marguerite.

 

Closing my shutters.

Bon soir, toute le monde.

My favorite routine of the day is closing the shutters and window in my room.  It gets dark quite late here (around ten o'clock), and when I close my shutters, I shut out the bruit (noise) of the day, and I have time to unwind, do mes devoirs (my homework), and maybe eat an apricot with Nutella (by the way, not all Nutella and its offbrands are created equally--I find I actually prefer Nutkao to Nutella and other brands.  It's not as gooey, so it doesn't feel as if you're eating pure chocolate sauce).  

I am constantly surrounded by people, both foreign and familiar, from the time I awake at 7:00am to the time I return home (usually after 7:00pm--though the weekends I travel and the weeknights I spend at my friend's apartment often put me in the presence of people around the clock).  I often feel like an overplayed, overwound music box...I need time to stop spinning and piping out a tune, the box needs to be closed for a few moments.  So, when I come into my room and close the shutters, all I hear is the tick-tock of my travel clock, and the time is mine.  

That being said, I've visited some interesting places and learned some useful things in the past few days (perhaps the most useful of which being that red wine is not a good chaser for a shot of vodka: we went to a bar and watched the match du football between Italy and France, and France lost.  Everyone felt it necessary to indulge in a pity party shot).  

Some friends of mine and I went to the horse farm where Napoleon sent his best horses to be trained and bred.  We didn't know it was State-funded, though, and the day we chose to go was the day of a general strike (anyone who feels like striking simply strikes, so sometimes buses run, sometimes they don't, some schools aren't in session, etc.  I kind of think it's similar to our snowdays--you know you're going to get them, but you're not quite sure when.  And when you do get them, you're never quite sure what's going to shut down).  So they wouldn't give us a tour, but they let us in and let us explore all of the grounds and barns on the condition that we "wouldn't let the horses out of the stables."  I was disappointed.  That had been at the top of my list.

By far the coolest event of the week was the cheese lecture I attended on Tuesday afternoon. Gabriel Bachelet, one of the most famous cheese makers in the world, came and spoke to us about French cheese, especially the cheese of the Pyrenees.  There was a degustation (a tasting) and he explained how different types of cheeses developed.  For example, high up in the Pyrenees, people needed to be able to store milk for more than six months.  Hence, they developed hard cheeses that could last for long periods of time, whereas at lower elevations, since there was no need for milk to be stored for such long periods of time, people developed softer cheeses.  Another cool fact: oftentimes, when you purchase chevre, the outside is coated in ash.  It used to be a way to control humidity, but now the cheese is just rolled in ash for color.  

We also had an interesting lecture at the Jurancon winery today.  Jurancon grapes are the specialty of the region, and the particular winery we visited, Domaine du Cinquau, produces over ten different kinds of wine--from relatively dry to very sweet.  They produce over four million bottles of wine per year (only ten percent of which are sent out of the country, to Belgium and Switzerland.  They are planning to begin to ship to the States in about two years).  The only downside of the outing was that I had to cart around a bunch of wine for the rest of the day.  Not fun, considering it was really hot. 

Please note that I just typed "it was really hot."  It was sunny today.  I cannot even describe my happiness.  

Good night and good luck, 

Marguerite. 

Are you listenin', Silver?

Bon soir, toute le monde.

Correction from a few posts ago: I'm an idiot.  You actually spell my favorite movie Bienvenue Chez les Ch'tis, not "Ch'itis."

I had quite an eventful weekend in Nice.  I took quite a few pictures, which are in cleverly named albums, Sugar and spice and everything Nice and More Nice things.  

~Vendredi~

Our train left from Pau at 6:30 Friday evening.  It was happily uneventful until our first connection, at Tarbes.  We had a two-hour layover, and as we sat there, quietly reading our Cosmopolitan's and Glamour, une sans domicile fixe or SDF (homeless/street person) came up to us and asked, "Do you want ta hear an American joke?"  He turned out to be Irish, and told us jokes and stories for about 45 minutes.  His brogue was thick, and sometimes difficult to follow, but once in a while he would stop and say, "You're nice girls.  Thank ya for listenin' ta me."  And just when it seemed endearing, he would come up with a story like this:

"They're [I believe "they" means everyone in the world] all bastards.  Bastards.  They arrested me."  

Me, "Really?  Why?"

"Ah," he said, "I stole a car." 

His accent was quite thick, and his eyes were sad and blue.  He paused between words sometimes, seeming to grope for his next thought.  He stopped mid-story once and asked me, earnestly, "Are ya listenin', Silver?"  

Our train from Tarbes to to Toulouse went by quickly, and we boarded our night train (to Nice) around 11:30, and were assigned couchettes (basically rooms with stacked bunks).  I have to preface this by saying that I really do sleep well on trains, and prefer it to any other kind of travel.  There were four of us traveling together, and our chambre (room) had six couchettes in it.  We were assigned to the top four, and the bottom two were already assigned to two men. My friend and I needed to use the restroom, so we left.  Apparently, the French aren't that great about checking tickets, so there tend to be SDF's who ride the trains at night.  On our way back from the restroom, we were followed by one of the shadier-looking SDF's who asked us if our chambre was full.  I never thought I would be grateful to share a chambre with two strange men, but, thanking my stars, I told him, "Oui," and shut the door behind me.  Unfortunately, I didn't know how to lock the door behind me.  It was impossible to tell the difference between dangerous sounds and normal night train sounds, so after about thirty minutes of being a bit worried, I had to choose not to be frightened.  I said a prayer, stuffed my travel wallet down my dress, and slept soundly until eight o'clock the following morning.  

~Samedi~

We arrived at our hotel around 8:45am, and dropped off our bags.  Our room wasn't ready, so we walked around Nice, found a bakery, and came back.  Our hotel turned out to be a great find: two blocks away from La Promenade des Anglais and family-run, the hotel had more of a lodgey, homey feel to it, rather than a garish, touristy feel (much of Nice is too touristy for my taste).  We then changed into our swimsuits and spent the day at the beach.  Unfortunately, none of us wore sunscreen and all of us misjudged the strength of the Mediterranean sun (!).  I think the only good thing about it is that I know a new French phrase:  J'ai un coup du soleil (I have a sunburn).

Having learned the nature of French nightlife in Toulouse, we took an afternoon siesta (naps, showers, and a few rounds of euchre with cocktail hour) and went to dinner around 8:30.  We happened upon the perfect restaurant in Vieux Nice (Old Nice).  We ate outside and were waited on by really cute French men.  We spoke in French for the whole meal, and were even complimented on our French skills.  We went to a bar afterwards for a drink (my drink of choice is gin and tonic, but my friend ordered a Kriek beer--from Belgium.  Red letter day: there is a beer that exists that I actually like.  A lot.), but soon got tired and returned to our hotel.  

~Dimanche~

We checked out of our charming hotel and went to a market back in Vieux Nice.  I can't really describe it, other than to say to look at the photos I posted.  We went on a bus tour of Nice, which turned out to be great because we got to see some residential areas we wouldn't have stumbled across by ourselves.  Because Nice is very old, it houses many different types of architecture, and is often described as "eclectic."  I've decided that because I love architecture, but know next to nothing about it, it is my goal this year to read two books on the subject.  

After a quick trip to the Russian Orthodox church in town, we headed to the train station, and learned, first hand, the meaning of le systeme D.  We accidentally missed our TGV (the super fast train in France) connection, and a conductor told us to simply get on a different train (which stopped in Toulouse with just enough time for us to catch our connection to Tarbes, our last stop) and purchase a ticket when the conductor came around.  When the conductor came around, we explained to him (while looking sad and forlorn) that we accidentally missed our connection.  He simply stamped our incorrect tickets and said, "C'est pas grave."  J'aime le systeme D.

One more thing before I go:

The French are crazy about techno music, and my host family is no exception.  The kids dance around the living room to this song and don't believe me when I say I can't dance.  Today I simply smiled and said, "Are you listening, Silver?  I really can't dance."

Marguerite.

Il pleut.

Bon soir, mes amis.

Before I drift off to sleep, I wanted to post the updated photo album for Carcassonne and Toulouse. 

I wanted to give everyone a weather update: it rained today.  

Interesting thing before je me couche (I go to sleep), full of Compote de Cerise and thoughts of my enormous to-do list for tomorrow (at the top of which is "shop for and eat picnic lunch"): In English, we use the phrase, "It's raining cats and dogs."  In France, the phrase is, "Il pleut des cordes" (it's raining cords).  Quite appropriate.  Mes chaussures ont trompee aujourd'hui (my shoes were drenched today).  C'est la vie.

Yours, 

Marguerite.

PS--problem solved about not having a train connection from Nice back to Pau.  One of my new french friends has kindly consented to pick us up from the train station and drive us home.  At 1:30 in the morning on Sunday.  He's visiting his father in Tarbes (where our train comes in), and told me, "Ce n'est pas grave" (roughly translated to "It's no big deal").  C'est la vie francaise.

The ordinary life.

Bonjour, mes amis.

It's a rainy afternoon here in Pau.  The sky is dark, complete with lighting bolts and thunder claps.  I can hear the cars swish and splash by, and the creak of bus brakes.  Frank Sinatra is playing on iTunes in another room.  

I am staying the night at a friend's apartment (and currently typing on her MacBook).  A few girls are having their twenty-first birthdays, so we are hosting a dinner.  I am in charge of bread and cheese, so I bought four baguettes and a large brie (which I'm going to bake).  The baguettes are only 36 euro cents a piece!  The only downside to the day (aside from the railway debacle) was the downpour my friend and I got caught in on the way back to the apartment from Le Clerc.  I sacrificed my raincoat to preserve the baguettes, and we had left our umbrellas at the apartment, so we arrived completely trompee (drenched).  At least the baguettes are dry.

We're excited to stay the night here because La Vague (the main cafeteria on campus) has really good breakfast: half of a baguette with butter and confiture (preserves), orange juice that they press to order, and chocolat chaud.  I think secretly we all feel quite French when we eat it.

Some of my traveling companions and I decided that a beach trip is necessary.  So, we booked a hotel (it's in a great location, and has gorgeous views of the Mediterranean) and train tickets for Nice this weekend.  Only two slight glitches in the plan: the TGV (the main railroad company en france) is on strike, and the lady at the ticket counter didn't print our tickets with the correct stops, so we don't have ticket for our connection back to Pau for late Sunday night.  Zut.

In other news, I went running yesterday, and found le chateau in Bizanos (the little town in which I live).  The grounds of le chateau are a park, and the view of the French countryside is fantastique.  I'll post pictures sometime.  Pascal practices rock climbing every Monday night and asked me if I wanted to go with him this coming Monday.  It's indoors, and he said if I didn't like it, I could just read a book or watch.  I think I will go unless I'm too exhausted from traveling.  I think it's just worth mentioning that he practices rock climbing every week.

I'm beginning to settle into the rhythm of life here in France, and like it more everyday.  No place is perfect, but the persistent presence of centuries and centuries of history gives every moment of every day a certain gravity which I like very much.  It makes me feel like I'm part of the community of the ages, and alone at the same time.  

Bisous,

Marguerite.

A bikini in my bag and a ham sandwich in my pocket.

Salut, mes amis.

Yesterday was quite an eventful day.  I posted pictures of Bayonne and Biarritz already, and I put a lot of the historical information in the captions.  

I had to catch a bus to the university at 7:24 in the morning, so we could leave by tour bus at 8:20 with the USAC group.  We drove to Bayonne, and took a guided tour of the city, which was really interesting.  Then we had lunch (salad, fish and chips, and some sort of custard cake), and then free time to shop and go have chocolat chaud in town.

We went to Biarritz around 3:00, which was just about the time the sun was shining a little bit.  In case you're wondering why I'm wearing my jacket at the beach (and in all of my pictures), even when the sun shines, the wind is cold.  We went to the beach until 6:00.  There were museums and shops to look at, but they have a huge beachfront with showers and changing rooms open to the public.  It's very common for people to come here to the coast for the day, and be on the beach (there are tons of ice cream shops and panini stands that all serve excellent food) for the day, and then go home in the evening.  There are a lot of surfers because the waves are so high (due to the wind), and it makes for interesting people watching.  Biarritz is, to date, the most beautiful place I've visited.  Its natural beauty is striking, so is the historicity of the town itself.  With the little vendors and the boardwalk that lines the coast, you feel like you're right back in the early 20th century (except, of course, with a lot more sub-compact cars and Hermes boutiques).  One funny thing: the men here don't really wear swimming trunks like we do in the States.  They tend to either wear rather short, loose trunks, or tight, speedo-esque ones (I think there's an example in the last photo of the album, in the picture with the lighthouse).  

We got ice cream (their ice cream is more like gelato) on the way back to the bus (I got cafe and pistachio--I have a thing for pistachios).  We watched the funniest movie I've ever seen on the ride back to Pau.  It's the most popular comedy France has ever produced (more than a third of the population has seen it).  It's called Bienvenue Chez les Ch'tis.  It makes fun of the differences between northern France and southern France (le nord et le sud).  A man who works for la poste (the post office) gets a promotion, but in order to take the promotion, he has to work in le nord during the week.  He's from le sud.  Hilarity ensues.  You don't have to understand too much of the language to laugh.  I hope I can find a dvd formatted for US dvd players.  Unfortunately, it may come without subtitles.  Because of the linguistic jokes that take place in the film, it would be extremely difficult to translate.

When we got back to Pau, I was invited to go to a Baroque concert at one of the cathedrals.  My friend and I had about 45 minutes to find something to eat before the concert started.  Unfortunately, 45 minutes is not enough time to sit down and eat anywhere, and fastfood is not as easy to locate as it is in the States.  We were racing around the downtown area, desperately trying to find something to eat.  We finally walked into a Quik (their version of fastfood), but when we went to use the restroom and saw that the sink was not working, we left because, well, if we can't wash our hands, what do the employees do...

As we walked towards the cathedral (now with about fifteen minutes before the concert started), we spotted a drugstore that was miraculously still open.  We went inside and asked if the store owner carried sandwiches.  He said no.  Then he said, "But I do have baguettes and ham, if you want to make your own sandwich."  And that is how I ended up watching a Baroque concert with a bikini in my bag and a ham sandwich in my pocket.

Bayonne and Biarritz photos

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2108768&l=5f02b&id=39112435

Le Clerc

Salut, mes amis.

I'm so excited.  I found gluten-free bread at Le Clerc today!  I didn't know it existed in France.  It's actually not that great, but with enough butter and brie, it should be fine.  I also found rice cakes and cashews (I found the "health-food" section of the store).  We also went into the bookstore, and I found a lot of books.  I'm planning on purchasing some Tintin comic books and the Beatrix Potter series.    

J'ai beaucoup de devoir pour le weekend (I have a lot of homework for the weekend), but am not too worried about it.  

Next session (after Paris), my friend's host mom offered to host a cooking class on Thursday nights in her home.  It will (most likely) be just the two of us, with her as the teacher, so we'll actually get to learn new and more complicated things.  I'll spend the night there on Thursday, too, which will be nice.  We're quite excited.

Just wanted to update everyone on these few bits of news.  I can't believe I've been here for two weeks already.  Time is racing by.  I was talking avec un de mes amis aujourd'hui (with one of my friends today) and we were both saying how we haven't slept in past 7:00am even once.  C'est triste (it's sad).  

I've mentioned before that the weathere here changes quickly.  Here is an example: this morning, the sun was shining so brightly that when I woke up, I thought I had slept through my alarm clock (this turned out not to be the case).  At the bus stop (around 7:45am), it was so warm that I had to take off my coat.  Then, it started pouring down rain around 12:45, so when my friend and I went downtown, we had to sit inside in a cafe.  Then, it stopped raining around 2:30, and the sun sort of came out, but it was windy and mostly cloudy.  C'est tres bizarre.  I've never experienced anything like it.  Currently, at 5:30, it's completely overcast.  I hope it's nice for the coast tomorrow.  

I will write more later, I am wathing the match de tennis.

Marguerite.

Approaching the weekend...

Bonjour, mes amis.

Yesterday, my friend and I had dinner with un de notre amie de francais (one of our French friends).  We picked up dessert from Le Clerc (Grand Marnier cake) and headed to her friend's house.  He made cuisine de asiatique (Asian food) and we played games.  It was so much fun!  We played a game that had three rounds.  Everyone wrote words or actions on cards and put them in a hat.  We divided into teams, and in the first round, we had to describe our object/action to our teammate, and they had to guess it.  For the second round, we had to mime it, and for the third, we were only allowed to say one word.  We played once in English, and once in French.  It was such good practice!!  

Today we went to a spa in Pau for the afternoon.  There were steam rooms and saunas, and three different pools.  I divided my time between the sauna and the steam room, mostly.  The outdoor pool was great, too.  It was wonderful to relax and be warm for a change!  

Tonight was our second cooking class, which was really fun, and I have a new recipe that is absolutely amazing: Roti de porc--sauce Roquefort (Roast pork with Roquefort sauce).  Basically, we cooked a pork roast, and cut it part way into slices.  Then, into the slices we placed hunks of Roquefort, covered the roast in creme fraiche, and put it back into the oven.  C'est tres delicieux.  Our entree (appetizer) was Oeufs Mimosas (we hard boiled eggs, removed the yolk, filled the whites with tuna and mayonnaise, and then grated the yolks back over the eggs).  For dessert, we have Crepe poire--sauce chocolat (crepes filled with vanilla ice cream and pears, covered in chocolate sauce).  Our side dishes were zucchini and onions, and fresh pasta.  The whole meal was good, but the main course was my favorite.  Je pense je vais prendre le meme cours semestre prochain (I think I will take the same course next semester), if it is offered.  

Alors, I have a big test tomorrow in my language class, so I hope that goes well.  I also have a lot of homework and a paper.  However, after class tomorrow, my friend and I are going to do a bit of grocery shopping (mainly snack food so we don't starve on Sunday), and then go downtown to spend the afternoon in a terrace de cafe (an outdoor cafe).  We will probably eat some pistachio ice cream (I think it's one of the best things Pau has to offer), and do homework.

Interesting fact about France:  Coca-cola is wildly popular here, and one of the most common sights is someone sitting at a cafe, drinking a Coca-cola or a "Coca-light" (diet coke) and reading a book, or talking with friends.  The soda comes in a glass bottle, which they pour into a glass over ice.  Coke products are quite expensive here, though--three and a half euros (approximately six USD) to order one at a cafe or restaurant.  However, in France, you can buy one drink, and sit in the cafe for as long as you want (often for hours at a time).  

It is raining (again) tonight.  We are headed to the Basque coast on Saturday, and then on Sunday my friend Frederike and I are going to go with a group of cyclists on a biking tour of Pau, and will have a picnic afterwards.  It should be fun.  It will be challenging, though...we're in the mountains, so it's not exactly easy cycling!  

Tomorrow night I will babysit for my host family...that will be nice because I will have a quiet evening (the kids go to bed early). 

Bisous, 

Marguerite.

Le Chateau de Pau

Hi, everyone. 

Just thought I would do a quick post to give you the link to the photos of the castle here in Pau.  We toured it today.  It's really beautiful.  Well, I'm off for a bike ride (my ankle is feeling better but I don't want to risk a whole run.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2108334&l=42679&id=39112435

Toulouse et Carcasonne

Salut!

Before I write about the weekend in Toulouse and our visit to Carcasonne, I have to give one bit of advice:

If you go running in a town you're not familiar with, taking only les cles (the keys) to your house does not make any sense.  Taking only the keys assumes a) that you're sure of your way back, b) you're sure you won't injure yourself, and b) you're sure it's not going to rain.  May I suggest a cell phone and some sort of rain protection?  I went for my first run after dinner today.  In the first twenty minutes of it, I sprained my ankle, got lost, almost got hit by a bus (this time, I was glad to "miss the bus..."), and it started raining.  I hope my ankle isn't hurt too badly...it didn't hurt on my run, but it's kind of sore right now...merde (I'll let you look up that definition...).

Back to the weekend.  We left Saturday morning with our friends from their apartment at six o'clock am sharp by taxi.  Because of the Grand Prix, it was difficult to get the le gare (the train station), but we managed it.  Also, when I made the reservation (in French) the previous night, the man I had spoken to had not given the memo to the taxi driver that we needed space for six passengers, so he only had a Mercedes station wagon instead of the minivan (taxis are expensive in southern France, hence the nicer vehicles).  We eventually convinced him it was okay to illegally take the sixth person...

We switched trains at Toulouse, and went on to Carcasonne. (I've discovered I really like train travel...it's easy, smooth, and it puts me to sleep).  Carcasonne is a small, historic town, home to a medieval castle.  When we arrived in the downtown area, there was a huge farmer's market in the square.  I was so sad I couldn't buy anything--I would have had to carry it around for the entire day.  I did take a few pictures, though.  We went to the castle.  It's like a city...you go inside of the stone gates and explore.  Now it's filled with tourist shops and really good restaurants, whereas I'm assuming there were blacksmiths shops and apothecaries centuries ago.  Eventually you get to the center of the city where the castle is, and you can tour the actual castle.  I decided to do some exploring by myself while my friends toured that.  I found an ancient cemetary that's still in use today (very cool).  

We returned to the downtown area of Carcasonne and sat at une terrace cafe (an outside cafe) where the farm market had been set up earlier.  It is really fun to people watch.  Some of the girls ordered crepes and my friend Metta and I ordered milkshakes (quite different...they aren't thick and creamy like they are here.  They are basically sweetened milk).  

We took the train back to Toulouse, where we had booked a hotel room for the night.  We were quite nervous because we weren't sure what it was going to be like (and it was really inexpensive), but it turned out to be just what we needed.  We were in a great location (right down town, practically on top of one of the nightclubs which had been recommended to us) and the hotel was old (in a historic, quaint way), in good condition, I could stretch out in the bed, and the shower was hot...my hair felt clean for the first time in days!  I told Metta, "If travelling on the weekends means we get a good night's sleep and clean hair, we need to travel a LOT."  

Toulouse is France's fourth biggest city, so it was a really good experience to see what big city life is like in France.  We went out to dinner around 9:00 (people here really do eat late--between 7 and 10 or later) at a really cute restaurant.  I ordered the grilled lamb that came with French fries.  It was really good.  We then walked to le capitol (I can't really describe it, but I think I have pictures of it).  It's like a big square, and the hotel de ville (city hall) is there.  It was the strangest thing...people had set up couches in the middle of the square, and you could pay to sit down (for the leather couches it was about 1 or 2 euros, for the cloth ones it was less).  The only thing we could conclude about it was that since the nightclubs don't open until midnight or later, people must just mill around until then.  We went to a spanish-themed night club and watched some of le match de football (soccer game) between France and Paraguay.  It was a tie.  We ended up not really going out to a discotheque, because we had walked around all day.  It was sad, but now we know to nap after dinner (or pay to sit on a couch) and then go out.  No one gets home on the weekends until 5 or 6 in the morning!  

The next morning, we walked around Toulouse, and walked by the river.  We went to a beautiful park, and to some cathedrals.  There are parts of Toulouse that are quite livable, once you get away from the touristy areas.  We had lunch at a cafe and sat outside and people watched for quite a while (we were back at le capitol, and instead of couches, there was a huge cultural fair going on).  

We came back Sunday night, and did homework (nothing is open on Sundays, so we were all hungry and couldn't do a thing about it...definitely a strange experience, given our easy access to fastfood stores and twenty-four hour drug stores).  It was a good weekend.   It's really difficult for me to be a tourist, because I dislike it so much.  Despite the fact that I'm living with a family, it's difficult to get a sense of what French life is really like, especially since I'm here during the summer. Student teaching, maybe?

I had language class today and my French Cinematic Comedies class, after which Metta and I went grocery shopping (more like toothpaste and Febreeze shopping for me...their washing machines are quite hard on clothing, unlike my gentle one at home, so I've resorted to chemicals in order to hopefully keep my things in better condition).  I also bought a swiss army knife thing with a corkscrew--Metta and I have decided to have picnic days a few times a week, and we found out the hard way that there is really no possible way to open a corked bottle without un tire-bouchon (a corkscrew).  It's also difficult to cut salami.  

Anyway, here's the link to the album for the weekend (I will post more pictures in it of Toulouse, but they're on a different camera): 

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2108205&l=1b52e&id=39112435

Love, 

Marguerite.

Les photos

Hello, again. 

I posted pictures on Facebook...and here is the supposedly public link.  Hope it works!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2107784&l=dd45e&id=39112435

Jurancon

Bonjour, mes amis!

Today was a much better day than hier (yesterday).  My French skills are improving rapidly and I'm feeling a bit better.  Also, I had fun today, rather than feeling jet-lagged and overwhelmed.  That being said, I left the house before 8h00am and didn't get back until after 20h00 (ten o'clock pm).  Je suis tres fatiguee.

Have I mentioned that the local (and very good) wine here is about 2 euros a bottle?  The white is called Jurancon, and is quite good.  Hence the title of the post.  

After spending the afternoon avec mes amis in a cafe, cafe au lait in hand (I felt so French), we had our first cooking class of the month.   It is wonderful to be able to practice French with friends over the preparation and eating of a meal.  However, it was slightly disappointing (maybe not the right word?) in that I realized just how spoiled I am.  Ma mere is a great cook, and we always have food straight from the farm or the farmer's market, often prepared with a French method.  It's not really new to have home-cooked food or to whip our own cream.  I also know how to slice an onion...

Alors, we had canteloupe with a French version of prosciutto (Melon et chiffonade de jambon de Bayonne) for our entree (first course en francais, not the main course, as en etas-unis).  There are thirteen of us in the class, so it's more of a bonding/eating/drinking/laughing at ourselves time than an actual lesson in how to cook.  However, the best part is that we get to take leftovers home!  That will be nice for adventures this weekend.  I got to take a LOT of pate home, and a half of a bottle of Jurancon (pronounced with a soft 'c').  I also have the rest of le jambon, and brought some strawberries for Titouan (the four year old).  In his words, "J'ai un passion pour les fraises" (I have a passion for strawberries).  

We had Poulet Basquese avec Rize Basmati (Chicken of the Basque region with basmati rice) for le principal (the main course), with pate Basque and baguette.  Red wine with our meal, and white wine with our Fraises a la creme chantilly (Strawberries with whipped cream).  It was a great time.  I'm going to try and figure out how to post the pictures I took today.  We all cleaned the kitchen together, and then headed home.  It was a big day. 

After classes and lunch today, we had a reception for des etudiants de l'universite (some students from the university).  It's a chance for us to get to know some French students.  We served food and beverages--differenty types of juices, fruit, chocolate, and some really good gummy candy (Alex, I thought of you...it was sour but not too sour.  I'll bring you some if I can find them at Le Clerc).  Great news!!  At the reception, we met the new teaching assistant at Mount Union for the fall.  She's really nice and she is willing to speak French with me to increase/maintain my French skills.  We've decided to help each other with our written projects, too.  Mine in French, hers in English.  She's really funny and very French.  C'est bon.

Tomorrow, we leave for Toulouse.  Because of the Grand Prix car race, I won't be able to get back to my house until Monday after class (unless I want to pay a small fortune in taxi fees).  So I won't be reporting any adventures until then.  Here's to hoping my French skills didn't fail me tonight in booking a hotel for Saturday night, and that we (my friend from Mount and I) will be able to shower at least once between tomorrow night and Monday night.  We're staying with our friends who live in the dorms at university on Friday and Sunday nights.  Maybe a hot shower?  

One unfortunate thing: Paulin, le bebe, likes to steal things out of my cupboard in the bathroom.  I now have no toothpast.  C'est triste (it's sad).  

I'm off to bed.  I've taken to wearing socks on my hands for gloves.  Pascal gave me an extra blanket tonight, though, so I hope I will be warmer. 

Bisou,

Marguerite.

Lardons de la creme

Bonjour, toute le monde.

I hope all is well dans les etas-unis.  I am sitting in my room with a glass of Airborne because I caught a cold yesterday, walking around Pau in the rain; c'est tres frois ici (it is very cold here).  Today was nice though.  There was a break from the rain and the sun actually shone (this was lucky, I forgot my umbrella).  

Language class ce matin (this morning), then lunch, then a walk around town before my elective class (French Cinematic Comedy).  We watched Le Placard (The Closet) today, and have begun reading Laughter: An Essay on the Meaning of the Comic.  Thankfully, it is in English.  It's quite theoretical and philosophical--definitely my thing. 

I was early for the bus (thankfully) ce matin.  Actually, when I got to the end of the driveway, one of the neighbors offered me a ride to the bus stop.  She was very pleasant.  I managed to tell her to "Tournez a la gauche" (turn left), and she knew where to go from there.    

For lunch at l'universite, there were haricots de vert et boeuf de bourguignonne (green beans and beef bourguignonne).  There was also a zucchini salad.  Ce n'est pas mal (it wasn't bad).  I ate dinner with my host family tonight; we had leftover root vegetables but with a new twist: Lardons de la Creme (for those of you who don't know, it's basically bits of ham and ham fat that you cook down with some cream and put on top of things.  Really good).  It has quickly become my new favorite.  I used to not like ham at all (excepting, of course, bacon), but it's really good, and very standard, here.  

Tomorrow, I start my cooking class.  I will give a full report about it.  

One more interesting thing before I go back to reading my book about comedy (which, ironically, is not the least bit funny):

The French, from what I can tell, are the opposite of the definition of "germiphobe."  Par example, this morning, when I wanted to put the coffee mix into my hot water (shocking, I know, that I don't actually have real coffee in the mornings.  In case you're wondering, no matter where you go, all instant coffee blends are bad), and I asked for a spoon.  He told me to just use my spoon (even though he had seen me eating yogurt with it!).  C'est vrais, mon amis (it is true, my friends).  Also, they share food, spoons, forks, and knives, seemingly with no concern for where or with whom the aforementioned noun has been.  They also don't worry about food sitting out trop long (too long).  C'est tres interessant.   

The pace of life is also slower (partly because I'm in the southern region of France), which I like very much.  That being said, je suis tres fatiguee et j'ai une mal a la tete (I'm very tired and have a headache), so I am signing off for now.  

Just in case you're wondering: I have had one dream in French, only I didn't understand it.  'Tis a nightmare which haunted me with Latin, too.

A bientot, 

Marguerite