1. The apartment we stayed in was a glorious surprise. It was clean, large, stocked with some spices and near two metro lines.
2. The weather cooperated for the first few days we were in Paris which is good because we didn't enter any museums or monuments until Boxing Day.
3. As the week went on it became more of a hassle to pull out the camera, but there are still some photos to suggest that we were there for six days.
4. We hit... umm... 11 National Monuments or Museums in two days. It was exhausting. We went to some other places and or museums too. Next visit will see us at the Sewars and the Catacombs too.
5. Photos tell the story better than a bulletined list. So check 'em out.
6. Happy Christmas to you people that celebrate! Happy day off to those of you who do not. All our holiday love. Not our real love, just the holiday kind!
- Patrick
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
A little story
Today, Patrick and I were walking near downtown Valence. As we walked past a store I saw a mother helping her small son pee against a wall. Yeah, that is right, instead of taking her son to a bathroom she was holding his penis for him so he could pee outside.
I think this is why France should stop charging people to pee in public restrooms.
Just a thought.
Molly
I think this is why France should stop charging people to pee in public restrooms.
Just a thought.
Molly
Tidbits
Here are some of the small things that have happened lately or things that I feel like mentioning, but none is individually important enough to write about.
- On Thanksgiving (I had to teach) I made a girl cry. There were a few minutes at the end of a class and in order to fill it, I told about the tradition, that I dislike soooo much, of telling things we are thankful for around the thankgsgiving table. Well, I went around the room and asked people what they are thankful for, and decided to call on a girl because I knew her name. The trouble is that I could not see her because of another girl's enormous head. Well, it seems that she wasn't very thankful for my last-minute time-filling activity and was in tears. I tried to save the situation, but luckily for me, and E_______, the bell rang. I tried to speak with her after class, but she didn't really want to say much. Go figure.
- I decided to teach "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas" to classes that didn't have Muslims or Jews or Atheists or... My reasoning, really, for teaching the story was to teach the word "grinch" and because I couldn't think of anything else to do and a friend suggested it. Well I asked a class if everyone enjoyed Christmas or if there was anyone who didn't like Christmas. In most classes I took on the role of the grinch and complained about the holiday because everyone over here loves buying crap. Well in one class I asked this question and one girl raised her hand. "Do you like Christmas or do you not like Christmas?" I asked. "I don't like Christmas." "Why do you not like Christmas?" "My parents are divorced," she all but sobbed. I clearly didn't think this one through, eh?
- After three months of living in France, the French government decided to send me to a doctor to look at my lungs. The only doctor in the entire Rhone-Alpes region who can take an X-ray of my lungs is apparently in Lyon, an hour north of Valence.
The whole situation makes me feel guilty for eating meat... for a second.
I have never been pushed through so many small doors, processed and spit out quite like this doctor's visit. First they corner you and send you through a door, then they ask you questions and shove you through to be weighed. Then they stuff you in a 3x2 "room" and tell you to take of your shirt. They don't tell you to wait, but they don't tell you to come back out either, in fact they only tell you to take off your shirt. Just about the moment that you think, "did I not hear her say something more?" a door opens on the other end of the "room" and a woman leads you to an upright board in the middle of the room. Against this board she shoves you and you begin to think that you never want to be strip searched as I'm sure they, too, are not gentle. Then, once you've been pressed against this board, you realize that the woman has disappeard! "What? Where the heck did she go?" you may think until the board starts to shudder and you think that the machines around you will explode. Before the ringing in your ears stops, the woman yells at you to put your shirt on and closes you back into the box where your shirt is hanging. Well, wait a tick. What the hell just happened? and how many people's frozen nipples have touched that board today?
This is just a taste. There is also a doctor who treats you like shit because his job involves talking to immigrants with poor language skills. Then when he tries to make chitchat and you ask him a question about his suggestions. Well he doesn't actually know what he's talking about so he turns on you and is suddenly a little less gentle with the rest of the physical exam. Cough.
- When you don't have a phone, the students you tutor cannot easily call you and tell you they are not coming. You end up standing outside in the freezing rain for the polite 20 minutes before you can declare that a French person is a no-show.
- In Switzerland you can still smoke indoors, and it doesn't matter where. You want a coffee? Well you get second-hand smoke too! When in Geneva I second-hand smoked about three packs I would imagine. Cough.
- Food here is wonderful! For the Christmas holidays, the French eat fois gras. That means that the rest of the duck is really cheap! Duck is actually cheaper than chicken in December. The other evening Molly and I ate a delicious meal of duck breast with figs and garlic. It was like heaven!
- Molly made gingerbread cookies. Once we figured out that molasses is only available in healthfood stores and that baking soda is not kept anywhere near other baking ingrediants.
- Advent is a big thing in Germany. The third day of advent people celebrate with candles and cookies and vin chaud. Marie let us celebrate Dritter Advent with her and this made the holidays feel like they are approaching. The whole event was relaxing and really fit my need to lounge around in a home-y environment.
There are some of the little things that make up my life here. Some of the key moments that make me smile or feel like an asshole (sorry E_____!).
I hope your December is going well!
- Patrick
- On Thanksgiving (I had to teach) I made a girl cry. There were a few minutes at the end of a class and in order to fill it, I told about the tradition, that I dislike soooo much, of telling things we are thankful for around the thankgsgiving table. Well, I went around the room and asked people what they are thankful for, and decided to call on a girl because I knew her name. The trouble is that I could not see her because of another girl's enormous head. Well, it seems that she wasn't very thankful for my last-minute time-filling activity and was in tears. I tried to save the situation, but luckily for me, and E_______, the bell rang. I tried to speak with her after class, but she didn't really want to say much. Go figure.
- I decided to teach "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas" to classes that didn't have Muslims or Jews or Atheists or... My reasoning, really, for teaching the story was to teach the word "grinch" and because I couldn't think of anything else to do and a friend suggested it. Well I asked a class if everyone enjoyed Christmas or if there was anyone who didn't like Christmas. In most classes I took on the role of the grinch and complained about the holiday because everyone over here loves buying crap. Well in one class I asked this question and one girl raised her hand. "Do you like Christmas or do you not like Christmas?" I asked. "I don't like Christmas." "Why do you not like Christmas?" "My parents are divorced," she all but sobbed. I clearly didn't think this one through, eh?
- After three months of living in France, the French government decided to send me to a doctor to look at my lungs. The only doctor in the entire Rhone-Alpes region who can take an X-ray of my lungs is apparently in Lyon, an hour north of Valence.
The whole situation makes me feel guilty for eating meat... for a second.
I have never been pushed through so many small doors, processed and spit out quite like this doctor's visit. First they corner you and send you through a door, then they ask you questions and shove you through to be weighed. Then they stuff you in a 3x2 "room" and tell you to take of your shirt. They don't tell you to wait, but they don't tell you to come back out either, in fact they only tell you to take off your shirt. Just about the moment that you think, "did I not hear her say something more?" a door opens on the other end of the "room" and a woman leads you to an upright board in the middle of the room. Against this board she shoves you and you begin to think that you never want to be strip searched as I'm sure they, too, are not gentle. Then, once you've been pressed against this board, you realize that the woman has disappeard! "What? Where the heck did she go?" you may think until the board starts to shudder and you think that the machines around you will explode. Before the ringing in your ears stops, the woman yells at you to put your shirt on and closes you back into the box where your shirt is hanging. Well, wait a tick. What the hell just happened? and how many people's frozen nipples have touched that board today?
This is just a taste. There is also a doctor who treats you like shit because his job involves talking to immigrants with poor language skills. Then when he tries to make chitchat and you ask him a question about his suggestions. Well he doesn't actually know what he's talking about so he turns on you and is suddenly a little less gentle with the rest of the physical exam. Cough.
- When you don't have a phone, the students you tutor cannot easily call you and tell you they are not coming. You end up standing outside in the freezing rain for the polite 20 minutes before you can declare that a French person is a no-show.
- In Switzerland you can still smoke indoors, and it doesn't matter where. You want a coffee? Well you get second-hand smoke too! When in Geneva I second-hand smoked about three packs I would imagine. Cough.
- Food here is wonderful! For the Christmas holidays, the French eat fois gras. That means that the rest of the duck is really cheap! Duck is actually cheaper than chicken in December. The other evening Molly and I ate a delicious meal of duck breast with figs and garlic. It was like heaven!
- Molly made gingerbread cookies. Once we figured out that molasses is only available in healthfood stores and that baking soda is not kept anywhere near other baking ingrediants.
- Advent is a big thing in Germany. The third day of advent people celebrate with candles and cookies and vin chaud. Marie let us celebrate Dritter Advent with her and this made the holidays feel like they are approaching. The whole event was relaxing and really fit my need to lounge around in a home-y environment.
There are some of the little things that make up my life here. Some of the key moments that make me smile or feel like an asshole (sorry E_____!).
I hope your December is going well!
- Patrick
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Fête des Lumières à Lyon
That is to say, Lights Festival in Lyon.
Every year around the 8th of December Lyon gets a tourism boom. People come from all over France and Europe to come see this weekend event where the entire city of Lyon kicks off the holiday season (by that, I mean Christmas season). You can read about the history... some priest suggested something and all the good Catholic citizens of Lyon followed his suggestion. But the current state of the event is pretty cool.
Below is some video of where we started our night with the fête, but you could say that we began it about an hour earlier when we arrived in Lyon (an hour by train north of Valence) and bought our first, of many, many, vins chauds.
As I cannot describe the situation like the video may, I will just add that what the video lacks is the feeling of awe that flowed through the crowd as the lights came on and the production began. This is only part of what we saw, but it is a pretty cool thing to imagine seeing with 3,000 of your closest, smelliest, coldest Europeans.
Mind you, we didn't shoot this video. Our video is better, but shorter. But I tell you, the idea of settnig up a youtube account just to post one video when someone else has already done the work just seems silly. Oh well. Check out our photos from that night. You will see the wonderment and awe in our eyes!
- Patrick
p.s. There is really only one photo of me during the spectacle, and I look pretty unimpressed, but it was still very nice.
Every year around the 8th of December Lyon gets a tourism boom. People come from all over France and Europe to come see this weekend event where the entire city of Lyon kicks off the holiday season (by that, I mean Christmas season). You can read about the history... some priest suggested something and all the good Catholic citizens of Lyon followed his suggestion. But the current state of the event is pretty cool.
Below is some video of where we started our night with the fête, but you could say that we began it about an hour earlier when we arrived in Lyon (an hour by train north of Valence) and bought our first, of many, many, vins chauds.
As I cannot describe the situation like the video may, I will just add that what the video lacks is the feeling of awe that flowed through the crowd as the lights came on and the production began. This is only part of what we saw, but it is a pretty cool thing to imagine seeing with 3,000 of your closest, smelliest, coldest Europeans.
Mind you, we didn't shoot this video. Our video is better, but shorter. But I tell you, the idea of settnig up a youtube account just to post one video when someone else has already done the work just seems silly. Oh well. Check out our photos from that night. You will see the wonderment and awe in our eyes!
- Patrick
p.s. There is really only one photo of me during the spectacle, and I look pretty unimpressed, but it was still very nice.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
So, what do you do everyday?
This is a question I get a lot from people back home as well as people here in France. Most people can gather what Patrick does in a day since we moved here so he can teach in France. As for myself, it is a little different everyday. I will try to break down into how I spend my time day-to-day.
Typically, I get up around 9 or 10 in the morning, which is amazing for a variety of reasons. First, anyone who knows me knows that I love sleep so it has been great to average 9 to 10 hours of sleep each night. This pretty much happens most nights except when it is too hot in our room or when my bed becomes unbearable to sleep. Second, I am very rested so the rest of the day I have a lot of energy. When we first got here I tried to get up every morning with Patrick but that lead to 2 to 3 hour naps in the afternoon, which messed up my sleep schedule.
After I get up I either: a) eat breakfast with Patrick; or b) shower then eat breakfast with Patrick. About the time either of these tasks are finished in addition to any picking up of the room/kitchen it is noon. Now in the United States I would go run errands for 2 hours and then eat a late lunch but France shuts down in the middle of the day so I generally check my email, read, or plan out the rest of my day. At around 2 to 3 I run errands around town or get ready to go to my French tutor. After I come home, I get on the Internet for about 4 hours in the afternoon. This is usually when I get to talk to all of you online. After internet, Patrick and I make diner, get ready for bed, read, and then go to sleep around midnight. This is my day in a nut shell.
I realize that this is not a lot, but it takes up a lot of time. I am sure many of you right now are rolling your eyes at the fact that I just explained a typical Saturday or Sunday for most of you minus a few activities. However, everything in France takes longer. To get to the store, shop, and home from the store takes a couple of hours. Try to visit two stores or markets in one day and it takes the whole damn day. For example, I made pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving (this was a lot of fun and I will write about it another day) which was a three day or more process. You see the French don't have canned pumpkin so we had to make it from scratch. Saturday, we bought the 5 lbs or so of pumpkin at market and then walked home with it. Monday we spent 4 hours, yeah 4 hours, steaming and processing the pumpkin in a food mill since we don't have a blender or electric hand mixer. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday I baked pie. Why did it take so long to bake four pies? Well the oven we have access to can only really bake a pie at a time. Since I am still a novice at French, I thought I bought pie dough that had two sheets a package but it was two recipes in the package. I didn't have my dictionary with me so it was a guess. I could do a lot more in a day if it didn't take me 5 whole days to do a task that should take no more than 3 hours.
Just add a few trips around France and to other countries, dinner with other assistants and hikes and that is a complete summary of life in France for me. I would like a job but only if it was for a few hours a week around 2 to 4 hours a week. However, right now I am just focused on learning French especially since the applications for graduate school are finished. I am enjoying not having stress and each day as it comes. I realize that I am 100 percent lucky to live this life. I have my moments of missing home a lot and miss having a job; however, this time of reflection and rest has been great(more on that topic later).
Much love,
Molly
Typically, I get up around 9 or 10 in the morning, which is amazing for a variety of reasons. First, anyone who knows me knows that I love sleep so it has been great to average 9 to 10 hours of sleep each night. This pretty much happens most nights except when it is too hot in our room or when my bed becomes unbearable to sleep. Second, I am very rested so the rest of the day I have a lot of energy. When we first got here I tried to get up every morning with Patrick but that lead to 2 to 3 hour naps in the afternoon, which messed up my sleep schedule.
After I get up I either: a) eat breakfast with Patrick; or b) shower then eat breakfast with Patrick. About the time either of these tasks are finished in addition to any picking up of the room/kitchen it is noon. Now in the United States I would go run errands for 2 hours and then eat a late lunch but France shuts down in the middle of the day so I generally check my email, read, or plan out the rest of my day. At around 2 to 3 I run errands around town or get ready to go to my French tutor. After I come home, I get on the Internet for about 4 hours in the afternoon. This is usually when I get to talk to all of you online. After internet, Patrick and I make diner, get ready for bed, read, and then go to sleep around midnight. This is my day in a nut shell.
I realize that this is not a lot, but it takes up a lot of time. I am sure many of you right now are rolling your eyes at the fact that I just explained a typical Saturday or Sunday for most of you minus a few activities. However, everything in France takes longer. To get to the store, shop, and home from the store takes a couple of hours. Try to visit two stores or markets in one day and it takes the whole damn day. For example, I made pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving (this was a lot of fun and I will write about it another day) which was a three day or more process. You see the French don't have canned pumpkin so we had to make it from scratch. Saturday, we bought the 5 lbs or so of pumpkin at market and then walked home with it. Monday we spent 4 hours, yeah 4 hours, steaming and processing the pumpkin in a food mill since we don't have a blender or electric hand mixer. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday I baked pie. Why did it take so long to bake four pies? Well the oven we have access to can only really bake a pie at a time. Since I am still a novice at French, I thought I bought pie dough that had two sheets a package but it was two recipes in the package. I didn't have my dictionary with me so it was a guess. I could do a lot more in a day if it didn't take me 5 whole days to do a task that should take no more than 3 hours.
Just add a few trips around France and to other countries, dinner with other assistants and hikes and that is a complete summary of life in France for me. I would like a job but only if it was for a few hours a week around 2 to 4 hours a week. However, right now I am just focused on learning French especially since the applications for graduate school are finished. I am enjoying not having stress and each day as it comes. I realize that I am 100 percent lucky to live this life. I have my moments of missing home a lot and miss having a job; however, this time of reflection and rest has been great(more on that topic later).
Much love,
Molly
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
I read a book by Charles Dickens
I have started three books by Charles Dickens; A Tale of Two Cities, Hard Times and Great Expectations. None of these books did I ever finish reading, though I have picked each of them up more than once. I always had something better to do than continue reading e.g. slamming my hand in a car door for fun. Last night, though, I finished reading Great Expectations, and to tell you the truth, I'm not that pleased with the fact that I did. You see, the story really ends up being a disappointment on a grand scale... 500+ pages of grand dissappointment.
Normally, once I have finished a book, I close it and begin to reflect on the journey of the story and simply reflect on what I have read. After 518 pages, I put this book down and immediately grabbed another one to keep from throwing something against a wall or out the window. What. a God. Damn. Waste. Of Time! If I ever again want to read a book by Dickens, I will first ask someone to read it before me and underline the passages that are beautifully written. This way I can just skip to them and then ask said person what happens in the story.
Dickens is a wonderful writer, I'm not gonna argue that, but the racket he dreamed up is even more genius than his turning of phrases. He builds such a world that you trudge through to see what the hell might happen at the end. The writing between his pretty phrases is mostly basic and he is constantly introducing different characters to distract you from the fact that he has a goal for his wordcount and little else, and! and! he purposely writes dialogue in accents and dialects that are difficult to deceipher just, it would seem, to slow you down. People hold Dickens in high esteem because of the number of characters he created, but these are the same suckers, some of 'em, who don't believe in religion. Those that wrote the Bible created a bunch of different characters too, you know! Big effing deal.
So as I read a more modern book with no dialects to figure out and about half the pages and twice the story, I am glad that I can now give away this book that weighed me down (mentally and physically) through my travels over the last month. Next time someone askes me about Dickens or suggests I read even a short story of his, I will come back with my, now well rehearsed, response that does not suggest anything about his ability to write the English language, just stories in the English language...
Dickens sucks!
- Patrick
Normally, once I have finished a book, I close it and begin to reflect on the journey of the story and simply reflect on what I have read. After 518 pages, I put this book down and immediately grabbed another one to keep from throwing something against a wall or out the window. What. a God. Damn. Waste. Of Time! If I ever again want to read a book by Dickens, I will first ask someone to read it before me and underline the passages that are beautifully written. This way I can just skip to them and then ask said person what happens in the story.
Dickens is a wonderful writer, I'm not gonna argue that, but the racket he dreamed up is even more genius than his turning of phrases. He builds such a world that you trudge through to see what the hell might happen at the end. The writing between his pretty phrases is mostly basic and he is constantly introducing different characters to distract you from the fact that he has a goal for his wordcount and little else, and! and! he purposely writes dialogue in accents and dialects that are difficult to deceipher just, it would seem, to slow you down. People hold Dickens in high esteem because of the number of characters he created, but these are the same suckers, some of 'em, who don't believe in religion. Those that wrote the Bible created a bunch of different characters too, you know! Big effing deal.
So as I read a more modern book with no dialects to figure out and about half the pages and twice the story, I am glad that I can now give away this book that weighed me down (mentally and physically) through my travels over the last month. Next time someone askes me about Dickens or suggests I read even a short story of his, I will come back with my, now well rehearsed, response that does not suggest anything about his ability to write the English language, just stories in the English language...
Dickens sucks!
- Patrick
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Proud to be an American
I am truly proud to be an American. Not simply because Obama won but because of the progress our country has made to elect a President who is not white; our country had one of the highest turn out rates for an election in years; our country watched the election in this highest numbers since 1980; and our country was celebrated by most of the world instead of mocked. These are all things and so much more that make me proud to be an American today. Regardless of your political views it was a great day for our nation.
As President-Elect Obama asked all of us in his speech what are you going to do to help the nation. I also ask what are you all going to do to help our nation get back on track? If I get into graduate school I will not only help the community I move to but I also have two things I want to focus on when I return. I want to advocate for education because it is a nonpartisan issue. Everyone has the right to an education and having an education helps solve/ease social issues. Second I want to be an advocate for better education and awareness about sexual violence. I have heard too many stories in my life from other people. There is no excuse for sexual violence to be as rampant as it is in our nation and the world.
So that is what I am going to do. Now that I have told all of you, hold me to it.
What are you going to do? Let me know.
Molly
As President-Elect Obama asked all of us in his speech what are you going to do to help the nation. I also ask what are you all going to do to help our nation get back on track? If I get into graduate school I will not only help the community I move to but I also have two things I want to focus on when I return. I want to advocate for education because it is a nonpartisan issue. Everyone has the right to an education and having an education helps solve/ease social issues. Second I want to be an advocate for better education and awareness about sexual violence. I have heard too many stories in my life from other people. There is no excuse for sexual violence to be as rampant as it is in our nation and the world.
So that is what I am going to do. Now that I have told all of you, hold me to it.
What are you going to do? Let me know.
Molly
Six Weeks In
I finally stepped in dog shit. It only took six weeks, but I walked across eight feet of grass and stepped in an enormous, fresh dookie.
Three days later, different city, same shoe, another turd.
Fuck.
- Patrick
Three days later, different city, same shoe, another turd.
Fuck.
- Patrick
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Market day
I speak French with an accent. My accent isn't horrific, but to native speakers it's noticeable. I am reminded of this from time to time as I speak with different French folks in different situations. I like to think that my accent isn't that noticeable, but instead, that people realize I am a foreigner when I begin to search for a simple word and let out a very American “ugh” rather than a French “eh.” In my mind my accent is indistinguishable, but once I speak, yeah, I hear it. I was reminded of this earlier this week when at a market. Molly and I went to the small town of Romans-sur-Isère to visit a friend, Kelsey, who is also from Colorado.
Markets are very important in France. Local farmers come from their nearby farms to set up tables and sell their produce, meat or wine and to chat and get the lowdown from other farmers or customers. Large towns tend to have a lot of markets throughout the week. Every market has beautiful produce, a butcher in a converted van that resembles an American lunch cart and many old people that move slower than escargots as they look over apples and lettuce. The leeks are the largest leeks I have ever in my life seen and just scream to be turned into Vichyssoise with those golden potatoes to the left.
In a large town, six, sometimes seven days a week you can find this delicious selection on display to suggest the flavors of the season for your dinner table. Small towns, however, are a little different. The leeks are just as big. The mushrooms, picked the afternoon before, are just as fragrant as those in large towns. The elderly move at about the same pace as their metropolitan bridge partners. The difference is the “grandesse”of the event.
The small town of Romans-sur-Isère has only one large square and it is far too small to contain a Sunday market. Instead, the market in Romans winds through the town, around a large cathedral and along the Isère river. Before you know it, you have made a loop and are admiring the very same carrots with which you began the brief kilometer walk. As there are only three market days in the town, everyone makes an appearance on Sunday. Four different vendors are selling roasted chickens. Get there early if you want a small chicken, those suckers move fast.
I follow the same course at every market: I make a tour of the entire market to admire and price the produce I need for the night's meal and to see what else catches my eye. I always find something in every market that intrigues me. There is often a chili pepper I do not recognize or a fuzzy wheel of cheese that needs tasting. Produce always fascinates me at these markets because I am able to compare prices and names to American counterparts. The cheese, however, calls me to it in a different manner. Maybe it's the fragrance, maybe the people selling it, maybe the marvel of the process, but certainly the flavors have something to do with it!
Having made my tour of the market in Romans, I was prepared to commit to certain vendors and alter my dinner plans to include the seasonal mushrooms I saw in Rue du Fuseau. I also had a plan for the afternoon's picnic and on the top of the list was the cheese. Having selected the vendor from my tour, I slowly made my way to the quai where they were stationed and along the way buying half a chicken, some grapes, those mushrooms I mentioned before, a bottle of wine and, naturally, a baguette. Coming upon the cheese vendor Molly, Kelsey and I discussed what kind of cheese might fit our appetites. Upon greeting the two “veneuses” behind the piles of cheese, our game plan changed.
A simple “bonjour” goes a long way in a French market and can make anyone smile. From behind the cheese, two women with recently coiffed, gray hair looked up from their conversation and adjusted their glasses. I addressed the woman on the left first as the woman on the right had a lazy eye and I tend to focus on the wrong one.
“Bonjour monsieur, dames,” we were greeted with smiles.
Kelsey asked about Gruyère and I asked about chèvre. Then came the question... “Where are you from?” Damn!
We explained where we are from and the response was, “Are you lost?” Did I mention that Romans is a small town?
The explanation led to some very local cheeses being presented and tasted and a simple pride the French possess led to information about cheese making and recommendations about serving and other flavors that pair well with the cheeses. I finally was able to find which eye to focus on when speaking with the woman on the right just in time to bid her adieu and make my way along the quai to eat our afternoon meal.
Saving the best for last, we dipped into our cheese selection and relaxed in the sun as we finished our bottle of wine. We raised out glasses a final time and praised our educators for their recommendations and decided that our French need not be perfect. Had we known the correct vocab or not given ourselves away with accents, we would not have experienced such a fine showing of French hospitality.
I embelleshed some of this because it is going to a magazine where I'm applying for a spot as a correspondent. Most of this happened... the mushrooms, the lazy eye, the wine. Just hope that I get this writing gig because it would pay 600 bucks. Word.
- Patrick
Markets are very important in France. Local farmers come from their nearby farms to set up tables and sell their produce, meat or wine and to chat and get the lowdown from other farmers or customers. Large towns tend to have a lot of markets throughout the week. Every market has beautiful produce, a butcher in a converted van that resembles an American lunch cart and many old people that move slower than escargots as they look over apples and lettuce. The leeks are the largest leeks I have ever in my life seen and just scream to be turned into Vichyssoise with those golden potatoes to the left.
In a large town, six, sometimes seven days a week you can find this delicious selection on display to suggest the flavors of the season for your dinner table. Small towns, however, are a little different. The leeks are just as big. The mushrooms, picked the afternoon before, are just as fragrant as those in large towns. The elderly move at about the same pace as their metropolitan bridge partners. The difference is the “grandesse”of the event.
The small town of Romans-sur-Isère has only one large square and it is far too small to contain a Sunday market. Instead, the market in Romans winds through the town, around a large cathedral and along the Isère river. Before you know it, you have made a loop and are admiring the very same carrots with which you began the brief kilometer walk. As there are only three market days in the town, everyone makes an appearance on Sunday. Four different vendors are selling roasted chickens. Get there early if you want a small chicken, those suckers move fast.
I follow the same course at every market: I make a tour of the entire market to admire and price the produce I need for the night's meal and to see what else catches my eye. I always find something in every market that intrigues me. There is often a chili pepper I do not recognize or a fuzzy wheel of cheese that needs tasting. Produce always fascinates me at these markets because I am able to compare prices and names to American counterparts. The cheese, however, calls me to it in a different manner. Maybe it's the fragrance, maybe the people selling it, maybe the marvel of the process, but certainly the flavors have something to do with it!
Having made my tour of the market in Romans, I was prepared to commit to certain vendors and alter my dinner plans to include the seasonal mushrooms I saw in Rue du Fuseau. I also had a plan for the afternoon's picnic and on the top of the list was the cheese. Having selected the vendor from my tour, I slowly made my way to the quai where they were stationed and along the way buying half a chicken, some grapes, those mushrooms I mentioned before, a bottle of wine and, naturally, a baguette. Coming upon the cheese vendor Molly, Kelsey and I discussed what kind of cheese might fit our appetites. Upon greeting the two “veneuses” behind the piles of cheese, our game plan changed.
A simple “bonjour” goes a long way in a French market and can make anyone smile. From behind the cheese, two women with recently coiffed, gray hair looked up from their conversation and adjusted their glasses. I addressed the woman on the left first as the woman on the right had a lazy eye and I tend to focus on the wrong one.
“Bonjour monsieur, dames,” we were greeted with smiles.
Kelsey asked about Gruyère and I asked about chèvre. Then came the question... “Where are you from?” Damn!
We explained where we are from and the response was, “Are you lost?” Did I mention that Romans is a small town?
The explanation led to some very local cheeses being presented and tasted and a simple pride the French possess led to information about cheese making and recommendations about serving and other flavors that pair well with the cheeses. I finally was able to find which eye to focus on when speaking with the woman on the right just in time to bid her adieu and make my way along the quai to eat our afternoon meal.
Saving the best for last, we dipped into our cheese selection and relaxed in the sun as we finished our bottle of wine. We raised out glasses a final time and praised our educators for their recommendations and decided that our French need not be perfect. Had we known the correct vocab or not given ourselves away with accents, we would not have experienced such a fine showing of French hospitality.
I embelleshed some of this because it is going to a magazine where I'm applying for a spot as a correspondent. Most of this happened... the mushrooms, the lazy eye, the wine. Just hope that I get this writing gig because it would pay 600 bucks. Word.
- Patrick
First Bike ride in Valence
I am a walker. As such, biking around town is not something I usually do to get around; however, when I need to get some place in a hurry I will bike. I had to do this yesterday in Valence. This was my first ride in Valence and it proved to very interesting to not only bike in a new city but a different country. Until this experience yesterday I never quite understood how different biking around town as opposed to walking. Listening to friends' stories about their adventures being cut-off by cars or chased by angry transvestites through the streets all while on a bike seemed like another world to me. These things don't happen when you walk.
Now yesterday's ride did not end with being hit by a car or chased by someone, but it was quite the adventure. I needed to go to LeClerc, which is like a Super Target in the States only more food items than good items. It is about two kilometers from where we live. I needed to get there quickly for two reasons. First, I had to get there and back in about an hour because I was fixing lunch for Patrick and had to be back by noon. Second, it was cold and the less time outside the less time I have to spend warming up later. One might ask, "Wouldn't riding a bike in cold weather make you more cold?" Answer: No, I actually stayed more warm because I peddled the whole time. It was wonderful to stay so warm.
Valence has wonderful bike lanes for cyclist through out most of the city. The lanes are right next to the sidewalk and our labeled with a green and white picture of a person biking. The cars are very aware of cyclist on the road and share they the road, which is great because you don't have to worry about getting hit by them as much. However, French people have a wonderful habit of double parking and parking on the sidewalk. I normally find this act funny because of the blatant disregard for the traffic laws, which no one seems to care about here. However, I was in the bike lane, where I am suppose to be, only to have a car parked right there. I became annoyed. I came close to being hit, but as I said drivers here are aware of cyclists. It also helped that my bike was neon green, so I was hard to miss.
As I rode I began to realize that cycling is more interactive for me with the world I am biking through than walking. People were more aware of me because I was moving at a faster pace than the pedestrians but a slower pace than the cars. As such a one-eyed dog, which looked like an adorable stuffed animal, was more aware of me (maybe my bike) and ran at me with a bark that scared the living daylights out of me. The dog was like the rabbit from Monty Python's Quest for the Holy Grail, no pointy teeth but ready for a fight. The equally adorable elderly woman walking the dog was a little slow for my liking when pulling the dog back; but I survived.
After the minor yet traumatic run in with the dog the rest of the ride to LeClerc was pleasant. Once I got to LeClerc it took some time to find the bike rack. Most people in Valence use bike locks but often they do not lock the bike to anything. Many people would merely place the lock in between the spokes of the back tire and the frame. I guess, in theory, it keeps someone from riding the bike but does not keep someone from carrying your bike off. What was even stranger was all the bikes locked in this manner were nicer than the bikes locked to the bike rack. I did not understand the way the bikes were locked or not locked. I have come to say the phrase, "I guess that is how they do it in France." a lot to explain these things I do not understand.
I did my shopping and biked home, uphill. I do not want to give the impression that I live on top of a great hill. Valence's hills are no Rocky Mountains or even foot hills, they are little. However, when your used bike's gears decide not to change as you go up that hill it is not fun at all. In fact, the gears and the breaks were a little unsteady for most of my ride but a free bike is a free bike.
This was my bike ride to LeClerc. Alas, my bike ride home was uneventful but it is probably for the best. I look forward to other rides in and around Valence. Who knows what biking in France will have in store for me. I realized two things after my first ride. First, I need to get my neon bike's brakes and gears updated so I do not have any accidents. Second, I need to practice French phrases like "Attention!" (watch out). As well as learn how to say French phrases such as "Where is the bike rack?" and "Please control your crazy dog!"
Peace,
Molly
Now yesterday's ride did not end with being hit by a car or chased by someone, but it was quite the adventure. I needed to go to LeClerc, which is like a Super Target in the States only more food items than good items. It is about two kilometers from where we live. I needed to get there quickly for two reasons. First, I had to get there and back in about an hour because I was fixing lunch for Patrick and had to be back by noon. Second, it was cold and the less time outside the less time I have to spend warming up later. One might ask, "Wouldn't riding a bike in cold weather make you more cold?" Answer: No, I actually stayed more warm because I peddled the whole time. It was wonderful to stay so warm.
Valence has wonderful bike lanes for cyclist through out most of the city. The lanes are right next to the sidewalk and our labeled with a green and white picture of a person biking. The cars are very aware of cyclist on the road and share they the road, which is great because you don't have to worry about getting hit by them as much. However, French people have a wonderful habit of double parking and parking on the sidewalk. I normally find this act funny because of the blatant disregard for the traffic laws, which no one seems to care about here. However, I was in the bike lane, where I am suppose to be, only to have a car parked right there. I became annoyed. I came close to being hit, but as I said drivers here are aware of cyclists. It also helped that my bike was neon green, so I was hard to miss.
As I rode I began to realize that cycling is more interactive for me with the world I am biking through than walking. People were more aware of me because I was moving at a faster pace than the pedestrians but a slower pace than the cars. As such a one-eyed dog, which looked like an adorable stuffed animal, was more aware of me (maybe my bike) and ran at me with a bark that scared the living daylights out of me. The dog was like the rabbit from Monty Python's Quest for the Holy Grail, no pointy teeth but ready for a fight. The equally adorable elderly woman walking the dog was a little slow for my liking when pulling the dog back; but I survived.
After the minor yet traumatic run in with the dog the rest of the ride to LeClerc was pleasant. Once I got to LeClerc it took some time to find the bike rack. Most people in Valence use bike locks but often they do not lock the bike to anything. Many people would merely place the lock in between the spokes of the back tire and the frame. I guess, in theory, it keeps someone from riding the bike but does not keep someone from carrying your bike off. What was even stranger was all the bikes locked in this manner were nicer than the bikes locked to the bike rack. I did not understand the way the bikes were locked or not locked. I have come to say the phrase, "I guess that is how they do it in France." a lot to explain these things I do not understand.
I did my shopping and biked home, uphill. I do not want to give the impression that I live on top of a great hill. Valence's hills are no Rocky Mountains or even foot hills, they are little. However, when your used bike's gears decide not to change as you go up that hill it is not fun at all. In fact, the gears and the breaks were a little unsteady for most of my ride but a free bike is a free bike.
This was my bike ride to LeClerc. Alas, my bike ride home was uneventful but it is probably for the best. I look forward to other rides in and around Valence. Who knows what biking in France will have in store for me. I realized two things after my first ride. First, I need to get my neon bike's brakes and gears updated so I do not have any accidents. Second, I need to practice French phrases like "Attention!" (watch out). As well as learn how to say French phrases such as "Where is the bike rack?" and "Please control your crazy dog!"
Peace,
Molly
Friday, October 24, 2008
Anxiety
I read a funny little ditty from funnyman Larry David. He wrote, here, about his anxiety for the upcoming election. I found it right funny, but since have pinpointed the reason for my anxiety for the fifth of November to come and go.
My anxiety rests in the fact that I will not be able to watch the returns as I have in the past. Four years ago I stayed up late and cried myself to sleep. Eight years ago I fell asleep with exhaustion and had nice dreams of a positive outcome. It later became a nightmare.
Both times I watched the election returns with anxiety, excitement and hope, but I was able to switch from channel to channel in hopes that one network was lying to me... they weren't.
So my anxiety? Yeah, well there's a problem. If I manage to actually wake myself up at four in the morning to watch the info roll in, I'm not certain I will be able to see the coverage that I so longingly want! I will not have computer access to follow the returns until 7:00 a.m. and I am not sure there is a French television station that will devote everything to the U.S. elections (there is, in fact other news over here). I have no television in my own "apartment" anyway and would have to go to the other assistants kitchen and watch quietly. How will I be able to watch quietly?
So there's the problem.
I voted. That's it. I cannot easily phone bank from over here. I would love to! "Hi, I'm calling from France to urge you to vote!" That would be great, but it's not gonna happen. Now all I can do is wait and hope that some television station picks up my vibes and I can watch, albeit quietly and probably with no remote control, as the polls come in.
- Patrick
My anxiety rests in the fact that I will not be able to watch the returns as I have in the past. Four years ago I stayed up late and cried myself to sleep. Eight years ago I fell asleep with exhaustion and had nice dreams of a positive outcome. It later became a nightmare.
Both times I watched the election returns with anxiety, excitement and hope, but I was able to switch from channel to channel in hopes that one network was lying to me... they weren't.
So my anxiety? Yeah, well there's a problem. If I manage to actually wake myself up at four in the morning to watch the info roll in, I'm not certain I will be able to see the coverage that I so longingly want! I will not have computer access to follow the returns until 7:00 a.m. and I am not sure there is a French television station that will devote everything to the U.S. elections (there is, in fact other news over here). I have no television in my own "apartment" anyway and would have to go to the other assistants kitchen and watch quietly. How will I be able to watch quietly?
So there's the problem.
I voted. That's it. I cannot easily phone bank from over here. I would love to! "Hi, I'm calling from France to urge you to vote!" That would be great, but it's not gonna happen. Now all I can do is wait and hope that some television station picks up my vibes and I can watch, albeit quietly and probably with no remote control, as the polls come in.
- Patrick
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
We Voted!
Yeah, that is right. Patrick and I voted today. We stood in line at La Poste, which took forever. The experience of standing in long lines to mail something is universal. So our ballots are on their way, sent via regestered mail to elect Obama as our next president of the United States of America. Heck yes, go us!
Yesterday as Patrick and I were walking to the store we were standing at a street corner waiting for the light to change. Across from us stood a man with his child, he had an Obama shirt on. I can safely say that every French person I have met is hoping, just like Patrick and I, that Obama is our next president. It is not really a surprise to me but to see someone with an Obama shirt shows just how strong the feeling is for people here too. I want to thank all of you who have sent us information, videos, and articles on the election information. It has been great to stay involved and informed even though we are miles away.
I would like to shout out to Joe Plumber, Jane Teacher, Keith Obama-teamster, Colin Powell and everyone else who is hoping, working, praying, and talking about Obama as our next president. We are with you and will be up early on November 5th watching the polls come in. So, if you are up 10 pm MST on the 4th know that we are up with you, watching and waiting.
Yes we can!
Molly
PS: For all of those who read this that are for the other political ticket, I will only truly celebrate once it is official. However, if you decide to change your mind and vote for Obama you still can. You can do it privitely in the voting booth and know one has to know but you. It is ok, you won't go to hell, I promise.
Yesterday as Patrick and I were walking to the store we were standing at a street corner waiting for the light to change. Across from us stood a man with his child, he had an Obama shirt on. I can safely say that every French person I have met is hoping, just like Patrick and I, that Obama is our next president. It is not really a surprise to me but to see someone with an Obama shirt shows just how strong the feeling is for people here too. I want to thank all of you who have sent us information, videos, and articles on the election information. It has been great to stay involved and informed even though we are miles away.
I would like to shout out to Joe Plumber, Jane Teacher, Keith Obama-teamster, Colin Powell and everyone else who is hoping, working, praying, and talking about Obama as our next president. We are with you and will be up early on November 5th watching the polls come in. So, if you are up 10 pm MST on the 4th know that we are up with you, watching and waiting.
Yes we can!
Molly
PS: For all of those who read this that are for the other political ticket, I will only truly celebrate once it is official. However, if you decide to change your mind and vote for Obama you still can. You can do it privitely in the voting booth and know one has to know but you. It is ok, you won't go to hell, I promise.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Going to Die
We went to Die over the weekend! That is, the town Die (pronounced "dee").
I tried to keep from making that joke when we were there, because that would be such a cliché. I was kind of hoping that we would have a close call so that I could have titled this entry "We went to Die and almost died", but that too just seemed like the wrong kind of joke to make should one of us get hurt or in fact be viciously ripped apart by a terretorial wild boar when hiking through the Vercors mountains.
Die is a small town so we saw what there was early and then made our way to a winery where we sampled the local wine, Clarette, took the tour and then sampled some more wine. We ate dinner in our hotel room with a bottle of wine then went out for a walk and another drink. Die is a really small town, so the walk was cut short and Molly and I found the most lively pub in town. This bar also happened to be the biker bar in town and everyone was very interested in the soccer game on TV. If France did not beat Romania, they would not qualify for the World Cup in South Africa. France tied Romania 2-2.
I find it surprisingthat the first person Molly and I talk to just about anywhere we go, we meet the guy who knows the answer. This night we met the owner of the pub, a great guy who is married to an English woman and wanted to speak English with us. He also was tickled that such a pretty lady as Molly was interested in what he had to say and so sat with us to watch the game and have a beer. He then bought us beer and invited us to play baby-foot (foosball) with his waiter who is a huge fan of the band Motorhead and was there drinking on his night off. This man knew everyone in his bar and when 2 Belgians walked in he introduced us to them... now we have a better plan for our trip to Brussels.
As the night went on this great man told us about the rugby team he coaches, how he hates the cops ("Cops are pigs and pigs are cops," Molly told the man evoking the motto of Teresa McKellar), and how he had to through a drunk out of his bar one night and "give him a punch!" By the end of the night Molly and I were pleased that we were still standing straight and near our hotel.
Upon waking I was pleased that I felt great, but disappointed that the bathtub was just that and nothing more. I prefere showers.
Molly and I went on a 10k hike in the morning and took lots of photos. We encountered an old hunter looking for sanglier (wild boar, who knew there were still wild boar in France!) and later heard odd animal noises echo in the canyon. We only ran into two other people on the trail, no sangliers thank goodness, and spent most of the day in the quiet of nature of autumn.
We had a really relaxing time and for the first time really felt like we were in France! There is something about traveling that makes you more aware of your soundings. Die is a typical French town, we went to market, we stayed in the old part of town, we watched an international soccer game with people who were actually interested in the game and we met new people with whom we enjoyed speaking.
There is a small downside to this trip, however. We may have caught the travel bug! I have a school vacation in a couple of weeks and Valence is Windy. Sounds like a great excuse to leave for a few days!
Photos of Die will come soon!
- Patrick
I tried to keep from making that joke when we were there, because that would be such a cliché. I was kind of hoping that we would have a close call so that I could have titled this entry "We went to Die and almost died", but that too just seemed like the wrong kind of joke to make should one of us get hurt or in fact be viciously ripped apart by a terretorial wild boar when hiking through the Vercors mountains.
Die is a small town so we saw what there was early and then made our way to a winery where we sampled the local wine, Clarette, took the tour and then sampled some more wine. We ate dinner in our hotel room with a bottle of wine then went out for a walk and another drink. Die is a really small town, so the walk was cut short and Molly and I found the most lively pub in town. This bar also happened to be the biker bar in town and everyone was very interested in the soccer game on TV. If France did not beat Romania, they would not qualify for the World Cup in South Africa. France tied Romania 2-2.
I find it surprisingthat the first person Molly and I talk to just about anywhere we go, we meet the guy who knows the answer. This night we met the owner of the pub, a great guy who is married to an English woman and wanted to speak English with us. He also was tickled that such a pretty lady as Molly was interested in what he had to say and so sat with us to watch the game and have a beer. He then bought us beer and invited us to play baby-foot (foosball) with his waiter who is a huge fan of the band Motorhead and was there drinking on his night off. This man knew everyone in his bar and when 2 Belgians walked in he introduced us to them... now we have a better plan for our trip to Brussels.
As the night went on this great man told us about the rugby team he coaches, how he hates the cops ("Cops are pigs and pigs are cops," Molly told the man evoking the motto of Teresa McKellar), and how he had to through a drunk out of his bar one night and "give him a punch!" By the end of the night Molly and I were pleased that we were still standing straight and near our hotel.
Upon waking I was pleased that I felt great, but disappointed that the bathtub was just that and nothing more. I prefere showers.
Molly and I went on a 10k hike in the morning and took lots of photos. We encountered an old hunter looking for sanglier (wild boar, who knew there were still wild boar in France!) and later heard odd animal noises echo in the canyon. We only ran into two other people on the trail, no sangliers thank goodness, and spent most of the day in the quiet of nature of autumn.
We had a really relaxing time and for the first time really felt like we were in France! There is something about traveling that makes you more aware of your soundings. Die is a typical French town, we went to market, we stayed in the old part of town, we watched an international soccer game with people who were actually interested in the game and we met new people with whom we enjoyed speaking.
There is a small downside to this trip, however. We may have caught the travel bug! I have a school vacation in a couple of weeks and Valence is Windy. Sounds like a great excuse to leave for a few days!
Photos of Die will come soon!
- Patrick
Photos
I get the feeling people think we're just hanging out in Colorado not calling anyone. But we're here. Here are the photos that people have asked for us to share, but be warned...
The computers we are using do not have the latest flash player installed. This makes it really hard to edit any photos at all through the photobucket account. We have uploaded almost 200 images, but some of 'em are sideways and none of 'em have been seperated into their proper "albums." But whatever. If you want you can look at what there is. There are a sh!tload of pictures. We haven't even taken the time to delete those that are out of focus, uninteresting or poorly framed. And nevermind the photos where our eyes are closed! There are many duplicate shots in hopes that at least one came out, and maybe none of 'em did. It will get cleaned up soon... soon enough anyway.
So here's the link, I guess.
The computers we are using do not have the latest flash player installed. This makes it really hard to edit any photos at all through the photobucket account. We have uploaded almost 200 images, but some of 'em are sideways and none of 'em have been seperated into their proper "albums." But whatever. If you want you can look at what there is. There are a sh!tload of pictures. We haven't even taken the time to delete those that are out of focus, uninteresting or poorly framed. And nevermind the photos where our eyes are closed! There are many duplicate shots in hopes that at least one came out, and maybe none of 'em did. It will get cleaned up soon... soon enough anyway.
So here's the link, I guess.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Can I get a cure?
Cultural Shock was one thing I was not planning on attaining when I moved to France. I assumed that I would handle the transition as I handle all my past transitions in life. A quick cry then I analyze what to do to feel better and then I am fine. Alas, that assumption made an ass out of me but no one else. It is like a god damn cold virus that the doctor tells you, "There is nothing I can do for you. You just have to drink plenty of water and get rest, it will pass." When ever I get that type of reply I always think, "Thanks doc, I just paid you how much to tell me something I already know? Good for you! Did they teach you that it med school or did you learn that all on your own?"
This is my current state: stuck in cultural shock purgatory. It doesn't help that I am consumed with my graduate school applications. Until my applications are finished I don't think I will truly feel comfortable in France. This is not to say that I am not enjoying myself. I was very torn to write about this difficulty of mine. I don't want people to worry or tell me something I already know. It is hard for me to admit that I am having a hard time with something I feel I should not be concerned with. So here is to the first step, I admit I have a problem. This is not to say I am not having fun or regretting my decision to move to France. I am so glad I did this but for reasons that have nothing to do with "finding myself," more challenging myself to take risks. I can't stand it when people say they find themselves when they move. You find yourself by living life where you are and being honest with yourself about what you desire most in life. Any thoughts from those who read this blog of ours?
I said in my last post that I would talk about things to do when you move to a new country. My main advice is to pack those extra things that make you feel like you are at home. Whether it is a blanket or your favorite poster, bring it with you. Also, pay for the extra baggage fee for your basic cooking/living items. Just do it, that is all I have to say about that topic.
I will keep you all posted with my application process. As of late I am realizing that in Europe they use different sized paper than in the States. Thus UCLA's 8 by 11 paper requirement for all submitted items has become quite the pain-in-my-ass!
Ta ta for now, and remember kind reader that life's obligations do not stop because you moved to France!
Molly
This is my current state: stuck in cultural shock purgatory. It doesn't help that I am consumed with my graduate school applications. Until my applications are finished I don't think I will truly feel comfortable in France. This is not to say that I am not enjoying myself. I was very torn to write about this difficulty of mine. I don't want people to worry or tell me something I already know. It is hard for me to admit that I am having a hard time with something I feel I should not be concerned with. So here is to the first step, I admit I have a problem. This is not to say I am not having fun or regretting my decision to move to France. I am so glad I did this but for reasons that have nothing to do with "finding myself," more challenging myself to take risks. I can't stand it when people say they find themselves when they move. You find yourself by living life where you are and being honest with yourself about what you desire most in life. Any thoughts from those who read this blog of ours?
I said in my last post that I would talk about things to do when you move to a new country. My main advice is to pack those extra things that make you feel like you are at home. Whether it is a blanket or your favorite poster, bring it with you. Also, pay for the extra baggage fee for your basic cooking/living items. Just do it, that is all I have to say about that topic.
I will keep you all posted with my application process. As of late I am realizing that in Europe they use different sized paper than in the States. Thus UCLA's 8 by 11 paper requirement for all submitted items has become quite the pain-in-my-ass!
Ta ta for now, and remember kind reader that life's obligations do not stop because you moved to France!
Molly
Monday, September 29, 2008
Reason number one that I hate writing posts
I hate these damn keyboards! For instance, right there when I wanted to put in an exclamation point, it came out as a one. You see, in order to get a number from the keypad, not the 10 key, you have to press the shift key. So when I begin to type and press shift and then the 1 key I expect to get an exclamation point, but instead get the number one. It's damn annoying!
This will explain, perhaps, why you will not get anything out of me when I leave France. Once the keyboard changes again, that's it, I'm not gonna write1...I mean, I'm not gonna write!
Here is the keyboard layout from left to right:
&é"'(-è_çà)=
azertyuiop^$
qsdfghjklmù*
wxcvbn,;:!
Then in caps:
1234567890°+
AZERTYUIOP¨£
QSDFGHJKLM%µ
WXCVBN?./§
Then there is an alternate group of symbols that involve more than one key being held in order to get the surprizingly necessary keys like: #\ and @
What a pain in the ass1... ass!
The trouble is not so much that my hands hurt because I am pushing them in slightly different directions than they are used to, but that I am constantly deleting what I have written because in place of an A there is a Q. When I type my name and do not pay attention, I send emails to the principle of my school or the office of the préfecteur of the depqrtement, damn... departement that have my name spelled O'?eallie.
Nevermind that today I was at the préfecteur and was made to wait in what I imagine the "jails" in mid-sized airports must look and feel like... you're in a small room, there are many interregation rooms without numbers on the doors, you're locked in and there is no bathroom, every seat has somewhere where you can handcuff an aggressive drunk... or terrorist. That was not a problem§... problem! The problem is that even though I want to share my fantastical visions of acting as a drug mule and getting caught and wondering which room has that cold white tile and the barking German Shepard, I am hampered by the rearrangement of the letters on the keyboard.
Until next time I work up the pqtience... patience to write you again, au revoir.
- Patrick
This will explain, perhaps, why you will not get anything out of me when I leave France. Once the keyboard changes again, that's it, I'm not gonna write1...I mean, I'm not gonna write!
Here is the keyboard layout from left to right:
&é"'(-è_çà)=
azertyuiop^$
qsdfghjklmù*
wxcvbn,;:!
Then in caps:
1234567890°+
AZERTYUIOP¨£
QSDFGHJKLM%µ
WXCVBN?./§
Then there is an alternate group of symbols that involve more than one key being held in order to get the surprizingly necessary keys like: #\ and @
What a pain in the ass1... ass!
The trouble is not so much that my hands hurt because I am pushing them in slightly different directions than they are used to, but that I am constantly deleting what I have written because in place of an A there is a Q. When I type my name and do not pay attention, I send emails to the principle of my school or the office of the préfecteur of the depqrtement, damn... departement that have my name spelled O'?eallie.
Nevermind that today I was at the préfecteur and was made to wait in what I imagine the "jails" in mid-sized airports must look and feel like... you're in a small room, there are many interregation rooms without numbers on the doors, you're locked in and there is no bathroom, every seat has somewhere where you can handcuff an aggressive drunk... or terrorist. That was not a problem§... problem! The problem is that even though I want to share my fantastical visions of acting as a drug mule and getting caught and wondering which room has that cold white tile and the barking German Shepard, I am hampered by the rearrangement of the letters on the keyboard.
Until next time I work up the pqtience... patience to write you again, au revoir.
- Patrick
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Our address
I realized yesterday that I haven't told all of you that we have a place to live. We are living at the school where Patrick teaches. It is a small room (10 x 10), we do have our own bathroom and a shared kitchen. However, the rent is by far the cheapest we have ever paid or will ever pay so that is great. Our address is:
Patrick O'Meallie
Cité scolaire Camille Vernet
160 rue Faventines
BP 2137
26021 Valence cedex
In the event that any of you chose to send us anything please put Patrick's full name first so we get it, they sort the mail by name.
Photos to come soon!
Molly
Patrick O'Meallie
Cité scolaire Camille Vernet
160 rue Faventines
BP 2137
26021 Valence cedex
In the event that any of you chose to send us anything please put Patrick's full name first so we get it, they sort the mail by name.
Photos to come soon!
Molly
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
28 Hours Total
Sleeping has always found a nice place in my heart. My father took a Polaroid of me when I was thirteen, maybe. I had just woken up, at about 2:00 in the afternoon, and told him that I had just had the best sleep of my life. I have this rockin' pony tail and this glazed look in my eyes that would make you think I had just discovered dope. The truth is that I may have discovered dope already, but I had not discovered that other kids got paid a thing called an allowance for domestic tasks like mowing the lawn... or the neighbor's lawn. This being the case I was not high and wouldn't get high for another year or so when I discovered someone to exchange grass for a meager sum.
But please stay with me, gentle reader, as I digress.
What I wanted to mention is that I had two nights in a row over the weekend when I slept for 14 uninterrupted hours. It helps that the French put shutters on every window they have and give this sense of importance to them as though all of your organs will be stolen from your body if you don't shut all the shutters. Thus, you sleep in complete darkness. Which is bad if you have an early morning rendez-vous (if you will), but great if you have just had three days of activity following a 30 hour day of traveling and could really use some rest. It may have been the best sleep I have ever had! ( a quick note: the pillows DO suck! and my matress is kind of like a hammock, but that did not matter until Monday morning-ish when I tried to walk more than a block... but they were French blocks, so it wasn't very far)
With that I leave you. Get jealous. or just hole yourself in a basement room with a small piece of old foam rubber as a pillow and an old hammock and live the sweet life!
- Patrick
But please stay with me, gentle reader, as I digress.
What I wanted to mention is that I had two nights in a row over the weekend when I slept for 14 uninterrupted hours. It helps that the French put shutters on every window they have and give this sense of importance to them as though all of your organs will be stolen from your body if you don't shut all the shutters. Thus, you sleep in complete darkness. Which is bad if you have an early morning rendez-vous (if you will), but great if you have just had three days of activity following a 30 hour day of traveling and could really use some rest. It may have been the best sleep I have ever had! ( a quick note: the pillows DO suck! and my matress is kind of like a hammock, but that did not matter until Monday morning-ish when I tried to walk more than a block... but they were French blocks, so it wasn't very far)
With that I leave you. Get jealous. or just hole yourself in a basement room with a small piece of old foam rubber as a pillow and an old hammock and live the sweet life!
- Patrick
Pillows and bread: Life in France so far
Pillows and bread: Life in France so far
It has been almost one week since we arrived in France and I am not sure where to begin. I guess I will begin with our 30 hour journey here. Good god it was long and the person in front of me on our flight to London was a complete space hog. It was as if he needed more room than anyone else in the plane, which made it difficult to do anything. However, I would like to take this time to express how much I enjoyed the British Airways instructional video for flying information. Of all the people who have traveled internationally not a soul has mentioned these delightful videos. When we fly to France it was the same video only it had French subtitles. They were great for the chessy entertainment it provided. When we finally arrived in Valence we walked around for a while and ate at a Kebab restaurant. We went to bed around 7pm to wake up at 3:30 in the morning. Needless to say it has taken a while to adjust to the time change.
For me, France is different and the same in many ways. It is different in obvious ways such as language. I wish I would have taken a more intensive French class before we left. I am very frustrated by my inability to communicate. I can understand some of what is going on around me but I mostly get by reading peoples' body language. Alas, I didn't take a class and Spanish comes out of my mouth before I even have time to think in French. I have decided to find a tutor or class or something to help me with this situation. I also have been relying on Patrick a lot to help get me around and I thank him for being the main French speaker at this time.
For the most part Valence looks like any modern city in the States except that it has incredibly old buildings where ever you go. It is a little weird to walk around and see Ford cars parked in front of buildings from the time of Napolean. There is a lot of graffiti and trash in the city so it is like walking around New York in some ways. The amount of graffiti surprised me especially since most of it looks like crap. When I find artistic graffiti I will take a photo of it and post it, we will see if I find anything worth capturing via photo.
Yes, French bread is amazing as is cheap French wine. However, the French pillow sucks, big time! Also they have no jalapenos!
I will write more later this week. Topics I will cover: French parking, moving to a new country and what you should bring (in addition to pillows) and odd people I see around Valence.
Until I write you all again.
Love,
Molly
It has been almost one week since we arrived in France and I am not sure where to begin. I guess I will begin with our 30 hour journey here. Good god it was long and the person in front of me on our flight to London was a complete space hog. It was as if he needed more room than anyone else in the plane, which made it difficult to do anything. However, I would like to take this time to express how much I enjoyed the British Airways instructional video for flying information. Of all the people who have traveled internationally not a soul has mentioned these delightful videos. When we fly to France it was the same video only it had French subtitles. They were great for the chessy entertainment it provided. When we finally arrived in Valence we walked around for a while and ate at a Kebab restaurant. We went to bed around 7pm to wake up at 3:30 in the morning. Needless to say it has taken a while to adjust to the time change.
For me, France is different and the same in many ways. It is different in obvious ways such as language. I wish I would have taken a more intensive French class before we left. I am very frustrated by my inability to communicate. I can understand some of what is going on around me but I mostly get by reading peoples' body language. Alas, I didn't take a class and Spanish comes out of my mouth before I even have time to think in French. I have decided to find a tutor or class or something to help me with this situation. I also have been relying on Patrick a lot to help get me around and I thank him for being the main French speaker at this time.
For the most part Valence looks like any modern city in the States except that it has incredibly old buildings where ever you go. It is a little weird to walk around and see Ford cars parked in front of buildings from the time of Napolean. There is a lot of graffiti and trash in the city so it is like walking around New York in some ways. The amount of graffiti surprised me especially since most of it looks like crap. When I find artistic graffiti I will take a photo of it and post it, we will see if I find anything worth capturing via photo.
Yes, French bread is amazing as is cheap French wine. However, the French pillow sucks, big time! Also they have no jalapenos!
I will write more later this week. Topics I will cover: French parking, moving to a new country and what you should bring (in addition to pillows) and odd people I see around Valence.
Until I write you all again.
Love,
Molly
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
Prologue
Dinner was nice.
With just enough saved and trying our best to not spend money, yet still attempting to see people, Molly and I are trying to get ready for a trip. It's kinda weird packing clothing for a year when you really don't know too much about what the weather will really be or what activities you may actually be doing.
I set up, I hope, some housing for the first month we will be in Valence. We will not have a kitchen so there may be more comments about restaurant food in the beginning than the end as we chronicle this year.
I am trying to harness my anxiety for leaving (in 8 days) in a word that most people call 'excitement.' "Are you excited," people will ask... then the black ball of anxiety swells in my chest, restricting my breathing. Is this excitement?
I guess. Perhaps I should begin using the word, "excitement."
I am excited. There you have it.
- Patrick
I guess I will start where Patrick left off. I am excited, just not yet completely. Maybe on the plane to France from London is when I will get excited about France. Things I am excited about in no particular order. First, I am excited that I have not worked in 10 days. Second, I am excited that I have seen so many people I love before we leave. I wish that my life consisted of these two things. God that would be great! The only thing that would be better if I got paid to hang out with the people I love, although that might make me a whore.
I am not excited about all the little things I have to do before I leave or that everyone I want to see lives an hour away or more from one another. I would like to take this time to push the importance of a public transportation system that runs the entire I-25 corridor and I-70. I will right a draft of the bill if someone is willing to push it through.
As for preparing for France I worked on my French today with Patrick. We went over the basic vowels today. I had no idea that speaking French is all about the position of your mouth and lips. Maybe all languages are like this, but French is the first language I have noticed that it actually matters, the position of your mouth.
I can't wait for people to come and visit us in France. Please let us know when any of you would like to visit so we can plan for your stay. I look forward to see all of you. I am excited to travel around and see new places. I am just a little worried about the pace of it all. I speak to Patrick how he likes to travel and it kind of scares me. I am a McKellar and as a McKellar travel is relaxing. We see one thing a day and then hang out. We will see and you will all know about it through this blog.
Dinner was great tonight.
Over and out.
Molly
With just enough saved and trying our best to not spend money, yet still attempting to see people, Molly and I are trying to get ready for a trip. It's kinda weird packing clothing for a year when you really don't know too much about what the weather will really be or what activities you may actually be doing.
I set up, I hope, some housing for the first month we will be in Valence. We will not have a kitchen so there may be more comments about restaurant food in the beginning than the end as we chronicle this year.
I am trying to harness my anxiety for leaving (in 8 days) in a word that most people call 'excitement.' "Are you excited," people will ask... then the black ball of anxiety swells in my chest, restricting my breathing. Is this excitement?
I guess. Perhaps I should begin using the word, "excitement."
I am excited. There you have it.
- Patrick
I guess I will start where Patrick left off. I am excited, just not yet completely. Maybe on the plane to France from London is when I will get excited about France. Things I am excited about in no particular order. First, I am excited that I have not worked in 10 days. Second, I am excited that I have seen so many people I love before we leave. I wish that my life consisted of these two things. God that would be great! The only thing that would be better if I got paid to hang out with the people I love, although that might make me a whore.
I am not excited about all the little things I have to do before I leave or that everyone I want to see lives an hour away or more from one another. I would like to take this time to push the importance of a public transportation system that runs the entire I-25 corridor and I-70. I will right a draft of the bill if someone is willing to push it through.
As for preparing for France I worked on my French today with Patrick. We went over the basic vowels today. I had no idea that speaking French is all about the position of your mouth and lips. Maybe all languages are like this, but French is the first language I have noticed that it actually matters, the position of your mouth.
I can't wait for people to come and visit us in France. Please let us know when any of you would like to visit so we can plan for your stay. I look forward to see all of you. I am excited to travel around and see new places. I am just a little worried about the pace of it all. I speak to Patrick how he likes to travel and it kind of scares me. I am a McKellar and as a McKellar travel is relaxing. We see one thing a day and then hang out. We will see and you will all know about it through this blog.
Dinner was great tonight.
Over and out.
Molly
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
