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.