Bonjour, Kelly!

First look

2009-02-11T15:15:00.002+01:00

These are pictures from the first day in my condo. In the morning, Jim and I loaded up the car with a load of boxes, I went to the closing, then drove directly to my new home to begin unpacking. These pictures are pre-everything -- -moving, -cleaning, -unpacking.

A triumphant return

2009-02-10T19:26:00.004+01:00

and a new beginning

why not?

2006-05-25T22:34:00.000+02:00

it's nice to be home

Au revoir, Kelly!

2006-05-03T14:20:00.000+02:00

Here it is, my last post from France. Incidentally, I'm writing this (very slowly) from the computer in the teacher's computer lab at school, as my connection isn't working today. I've been packing intensively over the last three days, amazed at the staggering amount of stuff I have. So far, I have two large suitcases (one of which surely exceeds the weight limit of 50 pounds andwill cost (cough) EIGHTY DOLLARS in overage fees...), two boxes and a poster tube which need to be mailed (and will also probably exceed 80 dollars in shipping costs). I haven't yet packed my backpack. Looking at everything that I'm going to carry through Paris makes me want to cry, but I can only blame myself for this mess.

Tomorrow, I'm taking the train to Paris, where I'll spend the rest of th day with Catherine and her boyfriend. Friday morning, I head to Charles deGaulle airport and fly back home. It feels very strange that this year is already over. Needless to say, I will miss this place very, very much.

Thanks for taking the time to read everything I've written this year. In fact, this is the first time I've consistently kept any sort of diary for so long - I guess what I was missing before was an audience. I don't really plan to keep writing, since this was created to document my year in France... but who knows - maybe the need will strike me in the future. Oh, also? I never asked permission to put anyone's picture up on this site, so we'll just keep it as our little secret, got it? ....I SAID, got it?

I guess that's it for me. See you in the States!

what packing?

2006-05-02T09:26:00.000+02:00

Yesterday afternoon, Pauline and Bernard took me to a outdoor museum with traditional country homes of the Franche-Comte. They went around the region (mostly the Doubs, but anyway...), finding derelict houses, disassembling them, the reassembling and restoring them at this museum. If you think that I found this boring or unappealing, you've clearly never met me. I was raised on visiting Reconstructed and Historically Significant (RaHS) sites, and if you're like me (looking at you, bri), you knowing the interent appeal of seeing a roped-off room full of antique furniture.
This place was plently pluse-quickening, complete with the smell of dust and smoky wood that, I've discovered, is the same as ALL RaHS buildings.

This place had it all, small rooms dominated by thick beams:

Well-restored shingles:

Ye olde laundry drying:

an old-timey classroom (always my favorite):

Afterwards, I went home with them and helped Pauline make dinner. One of the things we ate were local potatoes deep-fried in duck fat. If you're not jealous of me, you're a damn fool. I actually had a dream last night wherein I ate more of those potatoes.

a few questions

2006-05-01T13:03:00.000+02:00

1.
does someone want to come here and do all of this packing for me?

2.
how did i bring so much shit with me to this country?

3.
why were you all so nice and considerate with all of the sending and bringing of gifts? because you were really, really nice and considerate. and you've sent me a lot of stuff.

some pictures from friday night. it got a bit out of hand, when the homemade hooch came out.

I had no idea that there were so many baudy french songs before that even, not to mention that they're available on compact disc.

and with the second half

2006-04-30T10:26:00.000+02:00

On the third day of my trip, I walked to Poet-Laval, a crumbly and charming town. It, like Baume-les-Messieurs and Chateau-Chalon, is classified as one of the most beautiful historic villages in France. Indeed, it's rather lovely.

Another gorgeous day, wandering along back roads and forest paths, getting a bit pink on my shoulders.

Provence: france, but better

2006-04-29T21:01:00.001+02:00

As I mentioned, the first time I came to France, the majority of the trip was spent in the south. We saw the country at a really heady, gorgeous time in June, when all of the lavender and poppies spread out on fields.

This time, I was a bit early. Luckily, there were just as many flowers - they were just found on trees, instead of the ground.

So, these are my first two days on the trip. Most of day One was spent on the train or wandering around Montelimar, a wholly unremarkable small french city, just the same as any other unremarkably small french city. Dieulefit is a seriously small town -- in the middle of nowhere, but somehow picked to survive as a upscale touristy town. Granted, it's pre-tourist season, so it was pretty quiet. On that day, I took a long walk (around 7 hours) to another town. It, of course, was a gorgeous and senic path. Unfortunately, I lost my GR (grand randonee) markers about halfway there, so four hours were on pretty-yet-hum country roads.

Here are some of the things I saw:

(a final note...I'm not exactly sure why, but this is one of my favorite pictures that i've ever taken. right as i got the shot, even, i thought, 'oh yes. this one is good.' so thank you, picture, for not disappointing me.)

o

2006-04-29T14:12:00.000+02:00

Reason #1 I wish I had a car: so a four hour trip took four hours, not an entire day.

My four day trip was lovely, even though two of them were spent in transit. I have a lot of pictures, but I'm feeling lazy and tired - from both the travelling and the moonshine we drank at a combination birthday/going-away dinner with some friends.

Off now to a local spa (really!) to have a swim and enjoy the saunas. Until I have time for a longer update, I'll leave you to enjoy the greatness of my new sunglasses, bought for 50 cents at the thrift store in town. Oh, and there's a 10th century roman church behind me. Oh, france!!

last one

2006-04-24T22:05:00.000+02:00

I'm posting everything today, as I'll be out of town the rest of the week. I'm making a short solo trip to Dieulefit, a small town located in the low mountains of north Provence. I plan to spend three days walking, plus forcing a bit of reading at a cafe while sipping pastis in the evening sun. The first time I was in France, we spent the majority of the trip visiting Provence and the Cote d'Azur. I fell in love with the former, as so commonly happens, and I'm very excited to return.

On sunday, I spent the afternoon at the Houville's house, chatting and knitting on the porch; enjoying the wearing of my new [house]dress, my latest thrift store find, and Spanish espradilles. They have a gorgeous view off the back porch, plus a yard full of flowering trees. Heaven.

In the evening, the twins joined us for a picnic at a nearby lake. Pascal had taken me here before - a small place known only to locals. Incredibly beautiful and quiet.

Oh, and I heard a cuckoo! It sounds...exactly like a cuckoo clock. In france, cuckoos are the harbinger of spring, like robins are for us.

cavey

2006-04-24T21:57:00.000+02:00

wrapping up saturday...

If it's not already clear, this region in France is very rural and very old. There's a few very distinct areas within the Jura, all relating to elevation. Around my town, at the lowest elevation, a lot of the land is kept as vineyards and cow pastures. Slightly higher up, there's no vineyards, still lots of pastures, but more forest. Any higher up, it's almost entirely wooded - logging, in those parts, is the main industry.
In any area, though, the landscape is most important to the people living here. It's lushly damp and green in the forests, the ground and trees carpeted with thick moss. Huge boulders sit along paths, studded with fossils. There's rolling hills and tall cliffs; caves and waterfalls and natural springs.
So, on saturday afternoon, Pascal and I took a little trip to a small cave. It was probably only 15km away from Poligny, up on the plateau, and marked only by a sign along the small country road.

There are a few tours a day - on ours, it was around 15 people, plus us, and another employee. The man leading the tour (the one in the middle) was clearly in love with that place, all of the stalagmites and bats. He spoke very slowly, too, so I was actually able to understand everything he said....well, once I figured out that "bald mice" means 'bats'.

The cave wasn't very big- three large chambers only - but it was clear much more wasn't accessible to us. The best part came at the end, when we stood in the chamber showed below. He turned off all the lights, then began a recording of "Also Sprach Zarathustra", with lights turning on one at a time, in time with the music. At the end, as the final chord reverberated in the air, I started clapping, saying "Ouaaaaaiiiiiiii!" (meaning, "yaaayyyyyy!") I was the only one. I watched 17 heads swivel towards me, then stare blankly as I quietly put my hands at my side.

'
We kept driving around after that, stopping once in a town to see the church. This one surprised me, as it looked very un-french like. In fact, it looked downright American, in that German-protestant tradition. I nearly hoisted the starts and stripes above, that's how plain and restrained it looked!

We drove over to the end of a reculee:

Then stopped in Baume-les-Messieurs for a beer:

On our way home, we passed by one of the few flocks of sheep kept around here.

church lady

2006-04-24T18:30:00.000+02:00

I had a much more eventful weekend than normal. Every night, I fell asleep exhausted. I also developed a small rash on my left wrist, but I won't go into any more detail about that....except to say, going to the pharmacy here is a very different experience. Over-the-counter drugs, like Tylenol, Neosporin, even contact solution, can only be bought at the pharmacy. It's typical, also, for people to go in the case of minor ailments to consult with the pharmicist, who then tells you which medications you need to take. Tomorrow, I'll probably go see one, since my rash hasb't cleared up with allergy medicine. In Spain, a girl told me that the pharmacists there actually sell low-level antibiotics, as well.
Sorry that I keep talking about my rash. It's really very small - I just thought it was some bug bites before, but then it got a little bigger. Okay, I'll stop. Now.

On saturday morning, I met up with Bernard and Pauline at the big church in Poligny. The minister is doing tours during the Easter holidays (easter holidays = spring break to us godless americans). We got to see everything, from the beams above the main room:

The bells in the tower:

The old clock...unfortunately, no longer in use:

On the wall behind the clock, people had written the date every time the clock was adjusted. Most of them were back in the 1930s and 40s.

We ended up on the balcony around the clock tower. The minister was extremely knowledgeable about the church - telling us all about the dates on construction (15th c. (!!)), construction materials, the origins and weights of the bells, how the structure has changed, everything! When we got on the bell tower, we found out that he knows just as much about the rest of Poligny. He pointed out where all of the original structures are, where all of the abbeys stand (some are converted, but a few still house nuns), the location of the old chateau and the original town wall. He also cleared up something I had been wondering: there are very few remains of the original chateau (the small castle which lorded over the original walled village), due to the fact that the townspeople reused most of the stones to build more houses in the 18th century.

There's more to show you from the weekend, but I'll break it up a bit. I know some of you look at this from work (shame!), so I try to keep the number of photographs low enough so you can sneak a peek while noone's looking over your shoulder.

Guess what? Chicken pot!

2006-04-21T10:16:00.000+02:00

After sleeping for 8 hours solid (and having a very long, involved dream about crocheting), I woke up to my suitemate's morning ritual of hacking up. Seriously, this girl must have spent forty years in a coal mine, for all of the debris she's got lodged in her lungs. This 'hacking' is less of a cough, more the sound one makes when trying to forcefully expell the phlegm lodged in the back of one's sinuses and throat. As far as I can tell, she goes into the bathroom or kitchen to do this, so she can then spit the phlegm into a receptacle that's specifically not her personal sink.

Since I've mentioned her, I might as well fill out her character a bit more. This girl is very quiet and completely keeps to herself. She eats only fat-free and algae-enriched food. Any conversation we've had has been initated by me. Her mother picks her up from work on friday, drops her off at work on monday morning. My initial read on her is that she's just really shy - no problem, as I can have streaks of anti-social anxeity from time to time myself.

While my interactions with her have been minimal, I get the distinct feeling that she really does not like having me around. I noticed that every time she would be in the kitchen (nearly an hour in the morning, then two hours at night), she'd fully close the door...to the shared kitchen. When Mike and Katie were here, they saw her on the verge of a near breakdown, as I was using the kitchen at the same time she wanted to. There's only two burners on the stove, both of which I was using, so after pacing for a good 15 minutes, she resorted to standing behind me, holding a pot (with a quarter of a chicken) in her hand, just waiting for me to finish. This girl seems a bit nervous*. Ever since the chicken incident, she's gone out of her way to avoid me. If I do, say, walk into the kitchen while she's there, I'll say hello and she will respond tersley, without even looking up from whatever she's doing.
She seems to have a boyfriend now - or, at least, there's a male friend who I often see coming and going, so perhaps she'll chill out a bit.

*this, of course is a meiosis, "the use of an understatement not to decieve, but to enhance the impression on the hearer." I picked that up, along with tmesis, in the "American Scholar" that Rachael recently sent to me. Not only is it a fascinating read, reading a scholarly journal also makes me feel smart again, for the first time in, oh, about a year. Thanks, Rachael - I needed it.

Despite a long and frustrating dream about crocheting, I slept a solid 8 hours and woke up feeling more refreshed than I have in a long time. The only reminders of yesterday are a sore ass, from sitting on that bike seat for three hours, and really sore shoulders, since the bike just wasn't the right size for me, in some way. Every time I go out on a bike ride, I think about my brother (hi bri!), who I know would just love taking a spin out through this gorgeous country. Of course, he's also a real bike rider, in real good shape. Riding with him would be something like the experience I had yesterday - I was wobbling my way up a not-very-big hill, panting and sweating, when I heard a fast "scwha schwa schwa schwa" approaching from behind me. It got louder and closer, finally a spandex-clad toothpick with legs blew past at, at least, twice my speed. By the time I got to the top of the hill, I could see this guy, on his fancy road bike, turning a corner a good half-mile down the road. This is what I imagine it would be like, as well, if I ever went out biking with my brother -- that is, fun for only one of us.

One of the coolest things I saw yesterday was this old terephique. There's a hamlet on the top of a tall cliff and another village in the valley below. In, uh, olden times, the cows were raised on the pasture above, then they'd send the milk down on this little elevator to be processed down in the valley.

how to be on vacation

2006-04-20T23:06:00.000+02:00

I am so incredibly tired, and just because I've done my first strenous workout in 6 months. Oh, I've gotten lots of 'a brisk walk!' exercise here, but not as much of the 'three hours of up-and-down cycling, wrapped up with a half hour of pushing the bike up a steep, rocky hill without any path' excerise.

I decided to take my lunch outside today, since it was beautiful and 70 degrees and there's so many flowers in bloom that the air smells like honey. Here's the walk to my little picnic spot:

Where I ate lunch today (see my purse, book, and foil-wrapped sandwich?):

And the view from that lovely bench:

Then this is where I laid down in the grass, to read and doze.

I can't wait to do it again tomorrow!

goodbye, hello

2006-04-19T21:11:00.000+02:00

Over the weekend, I spent time in Montbeliard and Belfort (the town nextdoor) with the whole group of english assistants. It was the last official get-together, as saturday night was the final night the whole group would be in town. We had lots of fun, of course. These are pictures from the beginning of the evening, while everything was still respectable.

And from the next day, when we reconvened (after catching the 5:30 train back to Montbeliard, sleeping for 5 hours, then dragging ourselves back to Belfort). The sunglasses inside isn't a fashion statement. Desipite the general state of affairs, we all enjoyed a big, lovely easter lunch-dinner and a rousing game of charades afterwards.

This weekend was also the first time I got to meet Catherine's boyfriend. They came down on tuesday, for one of the most gloriest days this year. We had a big brunch, with chevre and honey on toast, slivers of an apple tartlett, loads of coffee, and music off my iPod. After that, we took a walk in the hills. This was Catherine's boyfriend's first time in Europe, and his first time in a small village in France. Poligny really pulled out all the stops for his reception. Just after the end of our long walk, Catherine and I were splashing around in a shallow part of the creek, right next to the ancient tower that's still standing on the edge of town. We heard the voices and laughing of young children in a school group, then a cluster of four young nuns, their hands full of daffodils picked in the forest, walked by and sang "bonjour!' one at a time.

We walked around town, through the cemetary, sat at sidewalk table in the center of town and had a pastis. In the evening, we tried out the new restaurant in town (along with half of the other residents here) and popped open a few big bottles of beer. (Mike, the Trois Monts beer is rather good.)

Today, I had a proper line-in kind of lazy, vacation day. After walking the two down to the train station to send them back to Montbeliard, I returned home to doze, read, watch the sun rise, and eat yogurt. In the afternoon, I spent a good two hours at a sidewalk cafe, then read more in a big pasture full of camomile, overlooking the town and vineyards.

I really do love it here.

roasted bunnies

2006-04-18T08:42:00.000+02:00

I've been very pleasantly busy in the last few days, continuing through this morning. I have 45 minutes to clean up my apartment before some visitors arrive at the train station, so this will be short. These photos are from friday afternoon - a gorgeous, clear day.

It's springtime when the old men come out to play bowling in the parks.

Chamole:

From here, I could see Mont Blanc - for real this time. The mountain I saw before was most definitely not it -- it was quite obvious this day, when I saw farther in the distance an mountain at least twice the height.

On friday night, I met a group of students from one of my BTS classes. We had a big, fancy, traditional French dinner at the school's training restaurant.

We ate some unspeakably gross things. No kidding.

Cheese plate, I think I love you.

week, end.

2006-04-15T09:27:00.000+02:00

On tuesday night, when Mike and Kate were here, a group of BTS students had a big party. Oh, excuse me, I mean a "Mega"party, as I was assured the entire week beforehand. It was a combination birthday, end-of-year party - mixed drinks and all.

Parties here are just like college parties in the US. Just like, but not quite as trashy and nobody does keg stands. There's more jumping around here, so I guess it evens out. Near the end of the evening, I found Katie talking to a guy about Supertramp at one end of the house, and Mike playing caps at the other end. I'd say that's successful all around.

On wednesday morning, I had my final class with my favorite BTS class. We did a little going-away party, with snacks and juice. I, apparently, wore a red motorcycle helmet.

At the beginning of class, Bernard suggested that I say something to the class. Once I began, talking about how this has been one of the beset years of my life, how they have been so welcoming and kind to me, and I saw all of their lovely faces staring back at me, I just started to cry. I couldn't help it - not only am I sad to leave, I'm just so incredibly thankful to all of them for taking me in as their friend this whole year.

That afternoon, the drizzle let up long enough for us to walk around a bit outside. We went to the big cemetery in town. Mike and Katie enjoyed themselves a surprising amount. I think we'll have to say that them doing the "Thriller" dance here wasn't exactly dancing on anyone's grave, since we

Oh, and Katie found a bone.

Don't believe it? Take a look. It's big.

Human-like.

During the evenings, since it was chilly and raining, we spent a lot of time playing cards. Why don't people do that as much anymore - spend their evenings with friends playing board games and cards? When I come back to chicago, I'd like to start a Max Fisher-esque card gaming club. Who wants to joing in?

Speaking of looking for volunteers, I have a whole stack of letters from French kids that are dying to get a response. In my classes on friday, with younger kids, I had each of them write a letter to an american. To you, perhaps. I told them that I'd pass out these letters, and that they'd get a response some time this summer. Who wants one? It's not necessary to maintain a lifelong correspondence, but it will really make a kid's day here, if they get a real hand-written letter from someone in the U.S. If you aren't in Chicago, I can mail a few to you, so you can pass a few out to your friends, too.

zombie pirates!

2006-04-13T23:12:00.000+02:00

This visit from Kate and Mike was so much fun. I've gotten really satisfied with my year alone - it's quiet and relaxing. I can be self-centered, but in the best way possible - simply doing what I like most, since nobody else needs anything from me.
Just leave it to a few good friends to go an ruin it all, by reminding me that contact with others is a really, really good thing. I'll be home in three weeks. While I'm incredibly sad about leaving this place, I am really excited to return home. Somewhere I'm not always the outsider, where I belong with a group of people. Somewhere I can understand jokes and make some of my own.*

(please enjoy pictures from the ONLY day that it did not rain. I had been bragging to them that they were going to be smacked upside the head by the gorgeous spring here. The first morning here in Poligny, the drizzle started. It stopped only twice: once to be sunny and once to snow. Dammit.)

When Jim was here, we discussed how this area, remote and prehistoric, is just ripe for all kinds of ghost stories and zombie incidents. Turns out we were right about both things: Bernard's told me a few of the local ghost legends, and Mike turned into a zombie.

*This is a joke. It was made up by an American assistant, but it works best in French:
Q: Pourquoi est-ce les pirates n'amient pas conduire?
A: Parce-que ils preferent la garrrrrrrre!
(translation: Why don't pirates like to drive? Because they prefer the train station.)
The humor of this joke lies in saying "la gare" (train station) like a pirate: hence, "garrrrrrrre!" Because pirates say "yarrrrrr." Or sometimes just "arrrrrr."

Unfortunately, pirates say niether "yarrr" nor "arrrr" in french. I found this out when I tried telling a few students at a party. I was so excited to tell it, finishing with a hearty "gARRRRRe!" and a swashbuckling swing of the arm. There was silence for a moment, then "What?!?" and then the laughing. Now, I've made people crack a smile or giggle a bit when I mess up my french -- this, however, was full-out tears-in-eyes guffawing. I sensed trouble, so I said, "You know, because pirates say [arm swing and hond over eye to suggest eye patch] yarrrrrr?" Of course, they didn't know that and any description of the native habits of pirates only confused them more. How come we never learned pirate vocabulary in any of my French classes? It really would have come in handy.

life imitates art

2006-04-13T21:11:00.000+02:00

2006-04-11T09:18:00.000+02:00

I kept forgetting to bring my camera along these last two days, but that's not such a problem -- all you would see is a sea of umbrellas because it's been raining for the last two days. Oh, it did briefly stop yesterday morning, when it snowed for a couple of hours.

The visit from Mike and Katie has been unbelieveably fun, regardless. On sunday, we explored town a bit, then yesterday we spent the day in Besancon. Today, it's not raining (finally), so we're going to take a walk. I'm still a bit bummed -- last week, we were wearing t-shirts. Today, the fog is thick enough to hide the cliffs next to town. Boo to that, I say.

trouble

2006-04-09T08:30:00.000+02:00

Trouble #1:

Trouble #2, monsters after you:

Trouble #3, saying good bye forever:

This coming week of class is my last. I'm starting to feel sad.

Trouble #4, real trouble:
Mike and Kate are here to visit! They arrived in Paris on thursday morning, then took the train to Poligny yesterday. Their day got to a rough start, when a train they were on split at a station - leaving them in a place they didn't want to be, watching the other half of their train continue on to where they wanted to be. It set them back a few hours, but they still arrive in Poligny while it was sunny and beautiful.

You may already be familiar, but on trains in Europe, it's common that the doors do not open automatically - you have to push a button or turn the crank or whatever. I'm used to it by now, but I remember when I first arrived, there was a general feeling of stress whenever I had to exit the train. I mean, half the time, they don't even announce the stop -- if nobody is getting on or off, they don't hang around too long at each place, so it feels like you have to get off NOW or else you're STUCK on the train. Long story short, with the excitement of arriving, the amount of luggage, and the hurry to get off the train, a bag was forgotten. Luckily, we realized it pretty quicky. Also luckily, the train stopped in Lons-le-Saunier, very nearby, and didn't continue on to Lyon, two hours away.

We had an hour of extreme stress. I immediately called the Houvilles for help, but nobody answered. Then I tried to find a phone number for the train station in Lons, but the only one listed (anywhere!) was a recording about buying tickets online. The only thing that kept me calm was knowing how safe everything is here. On the train, a person will leave their purse on a seat when they leave to use the bathroom. A few weeks ago, I saw a baby in a stroller parked on the sidewalk, all alone, while it's mom stopped in the bakery to pick up some bread. There is some pretty crime around here, but apparently serious things like theft and snatching babies isn't high on the list.

Finally, I got in contact with Bernard, who immediately came to pick us up, then drove us to the train station in Lons. The luckiest part in the whole situation was that the chef de station was still at work, at 8 p.m. The second he heard what we were looking for, his eyes lit up and he walked behind the desk to retrieve the bag. We got a bit of a finger-wagging for it, but it didn't dampen the mood. Nothing was touched inside-- quite a relief!

After we picked up that wayward bag, Bernard kicked into his normal tourguide mode. We drove through the old part of Lons and on a small road out of town. Mike and Kate commenced with going apeshit over everything in sight. While I'm contantly in awe of this place around me, I have forgotten that thrill I first felt when I came here and saw so much old shit. Everywhere. We stopped at the house in Menetru, where Bernard said he was just going to 'check in' with Pauline. Of course, she immediately came out and invited us in for a "light" dinner (of duck, salad, pan-fried potatoes, cheese, wine, and dessert). It was a gorgeous and happy evening, thanks mostly due to how generous and wonderful Bernard and Pauline are.

Today, we planned to see Poligny and do some hiking on the trails surrounding the town. I say 'planned' because it just started to rain five minutes ago. It's been common this spring to have it rain in the morning, then clear up afternoon, so I have my fingers crossed that today will be the same. Of course, rain can't keep us from the bakery, or from sitting around my room drinking coffee and exchanging presents.

April 6, 2006

2006-04-06T22:48:00.000+02:00

Yesterday, it was cold and crappy and it rained. Not today, though! I took a little walk:

Then I came home and ate flan:

Mmmm. It was fresh and squishy.

It was a pretty good day.

move along

2006-04-05T20:06:00.000+02:00

Nothing much to report aside from:

1. Even here in this little slice of paradise, we have unpredictable spring weather. Yesterday, I took a ten mile walk and wore a t-shirt. Today, it rained and I wore my spring wool coat. Catherine told me that up in her area (about 2 hours north by train, and a slightly higher elevation) it's actually snowing. Shape it up, Spring. I expect more from you.

2. I'm currently battling a near-debilitating obsession with the friperie in my town. This place is an unbelieveable second hand store. It's big, well-lit, clean, totally organized, and DIRT cheap. I could buy an entire set of cute vintage plates, bowls and serving dishes for 20 euro. An adorable cabinet and self unit for 30. A full sized loom for 250.
I've bought a few things...and I kind of hate myself for it. Well, I will hate myself, when I pack and the day I have to move it all by myself across the Atlantic. After that, I will be my own best friend because oh my GOD this stuff is SO GOOD.

That's it. (Hello, underline! Where did you come from?) I'm off to a little party with some friends.

degustation

2006-04-04T08:33:00.000+02:00

One constant concern for me is "how will i get all of this stuff back?" It is a worthwhile concern, especially since I've focused on aquiring an entire kitchen full of extremely breakable glasses and dishes. I thought (for a moment) that maybe I'd just have to suck it up and not bring any wine back -- then I recovered from my temporary, blinding insanity and assumed my normal attitude: Hell, I'll just buy it now and figure out what to do with it later! Thank god we're always in the present, so I'll never have to deal with "later"...right?

Right! Wow, what a relief. Otherwise, I'd be pretty pissed at myself for bogging myself down with a half case of wine, purchased after TWO full days of tastings.

On saturday, I went to Menetru-le-Vignoble to visit the open house (celebrating the beginning of the tourist season) of the Houville's neighbors.
This is taken from the winemaker-neighbor's house -- shown is chez houville.

Oh, this is at 6 in the evening. We actually sat on chairs outside, so that we could drink our wine in the sun.

Everyone there, besides me, was local. Really, it was an excuse for the neighbors to hang out, take a glass (as they say), and stock up their cellars before the tourists hit town. Everyone there knew that I was the American friend of the Houvilles -- even the mayor came over to say hello. I was hoping for some key-to-the-city ceremony marking my visit...but that's only because I'd like to wear one of those french-flag sashes that people don for such occasions.

I bought two bottles of a Cote du Jura, a Macvin, and a vin jaune (Chateau-Chalon appelation, bien sur).

Mmm! Just looking at that barrel makes my mouth water. Macvin is truly a splendid thing. It's a drink made with vin de paille, a raisin wine which ferments very quickly. They add Marc, a whiskey-like eau de vie, to stop the fermentation. Macvin is the standard aperitif here and boy howdy, it is tasty.

Afterwards, I learned that it's hard to take a picture of a fast-moving great dane. It's downright scary to try playing with one.

On sunday, a group of english assistants from Montbeliard came down for a visit. We spent half the day in Arbois, the next town over from me. Wine is the main industry there, made obvious by the fact that every other store sells wine. It was a fun, lovely day. We ended up spending most of our time at one producer -- the guy seemed really put off when we first entered, probably because we seemed like a bunch of American kids looking for a free buzz. Luckily, I could break out the Poligny cred (it actually does work here - people treat you totally differently when you're local) and any shred of Jura wine knowledge to help establish the fact that we were more than willing to drop our measly incomes on alcohol. The best part of the day was that I, for a few hours, was actually fluent in French. And it was before the wine even kicked in!

Products of the Jura

2006-03-31T23:20:00.000+02:00

What, specifically, are these products? Here's a few, all of which are terrific and delicious and will make your life whole :
1. Comte cheese.
2. Wine.
3. Lumber - a good amount of oak, actually.
4. Eyeglasses - there's factories in the haut-jura.
5. Umm.... fir-tree flavored stuff. No joke - I have a bottle of fir-tree sodypop in my fridge right now.
6. Oh, honey, maybe. A bunch of people around here keep bees.
7. Walnuts.

One might also include:
8. General merrymaking

I'm pleased to report that classes are not classes due to the protests. Needless to say, though, most kids aren't showing up. I had two classes, out of four - one of them was four girls from a group of 15. Oh well, I got out early and was able to enjoy this stunning spring day.

I walked around for about 3 hours, just wandering paths and listening to my public radio programs, which I download every week. In case you're interested, I have a subscription to This American Life, Re:sound, Living on Earth, and Speaking of Faith. With the recent onslaught of bird chirpiness, I haven't been bringing my iPod on my walks, but it's fun to get caught up on my listening during walks like these.

I found myself up at Chamole, the village on top of the cliff, just east of town. There's a little platform you can walk up to get a really amazing view of, well, everything, since you're at the highest point in the immediate area. Today was very clear, so I could see Mont Blanc!

This evening, I had the pleasure of watching "The Squid and the Whale," which Jim so kindly sent to me. In addition to my favorite public radio programs and products of the Jura, I highly recommend this movie. I wouldn't strongly suggest fir-tree flavored things, though... it's a bit of an aquired taste. For cleaning supplies.

on marche encore

2006-03-30T19:32:00.000+02:00

Well, I just returned from an evening with the Houville boys and two other french kids - and, I have to admit, I'm feeling rather pleased with myself. I was actually able to express myself to some abstract degree tonight...I was really part of the conversation, not simply answering questions about How do I like it? and Is it very different from Chicago?

Earlier today, I had a group of 3 BTS kids. We were talking about the greves (striking), walking to a meeting. One boy asked if he could speak to me in French. I said yes, and we continued. They all laughed at me then, because they said when I began speaking French, I started acting French as well -- in terms of linguistic mannerisms, anyway. I did the little puffs and frowns and shrugs, threw in "En fait" and "...quoi" as my interuptors, responded to explanations with "d'aaaaacord...ouaaaaaai...." I realize this is meaningless to people who haven't actually lived here, so, sorry. It's the same in the US though, when we know foreigners who struggle a bit with the language, but whom have assimilated our Americanisms into their vocabulary. I admit, it is entertaining.

More about les greves at the end, if you're interested in my opinion. God knows, I'm interested in my opinion, so I'm rather eager to give it.

These photos are from my walk on Monday. It was going to be my longest yet - around 12 miles. The whole day seemed teetering on the brink of rain, but it never gave in. In fact, it was warm; like, I wore a t-shirt and my arms got a bit pink warm.

I covered some new ground on this walk, going through a couple of forests and valleys. It was so gorgeous and amazingly satisfying...in that way that I simply don't know what I'll do with myself when I can't spend my free days walking through these green pastures. France has really spoiled me rotten.

This is in Miery, a village I've visited often. It's the most adorable, friendly, crumbly little old place.

Just look at this. Don't you just want to sit down and have a cup of coffee at this table, talk to your neighbors as they walk by?

Here's some more of those wildflowers. This is actually the first bunch. Coming soon are daffodils, then lily-of-the-valley, then bluebells.

So, I had gotten through 8 of my 12 miles. It was around 4:45 and I wasn't too excited for my extra hour and a half walk ahead of me. Thank god for small towns, because Bernard actually passed by me as I was walking through a town. He pulled over and we chatted. I mentioned that I thought I saw a few wild daffodils in the forest next to town. This is the best part: when I said that, his reaction was, "Well, shall we go fetch Pauline so we can all go pick them?" Uh, okay by me. I'm not one to turn down traipsing through a forest and plucking wild flowers.

So we did and it was super chouette! My daffodils are still a-bloom in my little yogurt glass, too.

Today was interesting for me to witness. In the morning, classes resumed as normal. Mid-morning there was held a meeting for all of the students. A few student representatives talked, presenting pro-striking and contre-striking. Everyone went to their next class and had a vote: 1) Do you want to ask the government to rescind the new contract? and 2) Do you want to continue the strike, which will include a blockade of the school?
All 8 of the students in my class voted yes to both. I talked to a group of BTS kids afterwards and they were pissed -- they don't have the same contract in the catering industry and, more importantly, they're doing last-minute preparations in their classes for their big final exams. If the school is blockaded (a real word?), they're screwed.
This is my main contention with the whole situation here in Poligny. I was rather impressed with how democratically the school handeled the entire situation; however, I don't think the students should have the right to bar anyone from attending their classes. If the problem was caused by the school, then by all means, protest that specific institution. This, of course, is related to the government, not the school, so I don't see any reason why classes should be prevented. It seems more and more like the [younger] students are working the situation just to get out of class a few days. Frankly, it pisses me off to think that a students would be denied access to his/her education in nearly any situation, so this does not seem like an appropriate action to take.

Of course, nobody asked me my opinion on the matter. Well, a few did, but my french isn't exactly at the "pontification" level yet...

greve

2006-03-29T11:08:00.000+02:00

A few people have written to me about the strikes in France. I don't know what sort of press it's getting in the US, so I'll just briefly explain...
France has a system of work contracts for nearly all people. The current contract is immediate -- that is, right when a person is hired, be it their first job or fifth, they are immediately protected. They cannot be fired (without reason, without the employer going through prescribed steps, etc) as it would be a breach of contract. If a person's contract is broken -- specifically, if they are fired for what they consider to be a bad reason -- they can actually file a lawsuit against the employer.
The new contract states that there is no protection for people under the age of 26, during the first two years of work.

Now, this is hard for me to entirely understand, as we simply have a different system in the US. I don't know many people who are simply fired with no notice, although I do know it happens. Similarly, we have an understanding of the 'entry-level position' which we (both the employer and employee) assume will be appropriate for a 2 - 3 year time frame, after which the employee will look for a better job, etc. Of course, this is only my experience in the professional world, but I do think it's a common one. To me, the French seem to have a mentality of "Well, this is how we've always done it!" -- which is both good (lots of parades with people dressed up in medieval garb, along with any number of wonderful and charming traditions) and negative.

When I've talked to teachers here, they seem indignant that the government would stoop so low. They assure me that employers will exploit young workers, hiring them for three or four months, then throwing them out for a new person. Why this would happen is not explained... but they insist that it will happen. When discussing this situation with one teacher, I explained my point of view, explaining that our contract-less system seems to have worked out a mutually-beneficial understanding -- thus, my uncomprehension over the distress of the French.
"Yes, but...we're more socially advanced in France," she said.
"Excuse me?"
"Well, that's just the theory. We are advanced in the way we want to assure security for all of our people."

Well, everyone except the immigrants.... Arg. Just thinking about this conversation has gotten me worked up -- I'm certainly not a defender of the social protection in America, as I think it could be far better; however, these people are simply turning a blind eye to their own, similar deficiencies.

Hmpf. So, where was I? Oh, they've been striking. It seems silly to me that things have gotten so violent and destructive, but the French really do like a good romp with the poilce in the name of a righteous cause. I thought we were going to miss out on all the action, but lo and behold! Today as I was walking to school, I heard a rythmic banging that grew louder and louder as I approached the lycee.

There they were - my very own students barricading the school! They were beating on garbage cans and shouting protest songs.

I spoke to a few teachers outside, since classes are obviously cancelled, and their attitude surprised me.
"They're only out here because they don't want to be in class."
"They are concerned because they're lazy, and if they don't have contracts, they'll surely be fired."
"There's far worse things that happen in France every day, and these kids couldn't care less. This is just for fun."

It's an interesting situation all around. Will it make a difference?... well, nothing happened after all of the riots in the suburbs last fall, so I'm curious to see if this will do anything.

ring a ding

2006-03-28T12:57:00.000+02:00

Spring is really, really nice. It's even better when it's an actual season, as opposed to a two-week thaw between winter and summer.

This used to be the bottom of the sea, I've been told time and time again.

On sunday, I joined the Houvilles and another family (I can't remember their last name, so I always call them Patrick's family) at Herrison, a local park. Well, park isn't really the best term. This is down in the lake region of the Jura (slightly south east of here) where far more of the land is undeveloped. There's no vines in this area, as the elevation is higher, so it's all dairy and lumber.

Herrison is a large system of waterfalls which have carved gorgeous ravines and caves along the way. It's big and natural...so, it's a park? You can pick a description for yourself.

We had a picnic lunch before our walk.

Patrick's little girls, I was happy to see, also like to sit quietly with fiddly crafts.

Then we were on our way.

Let me say that these pictures do not do justice to the sheer gloriousness of the day. It was bright, clear, and warm - I just wore a t-shirt. Being a sunday and one of the first beautiful days of spring, there were a good number of other visitors there. It wasn't instrusive, though - if anything, there was a nice feeling of sharing a pilgrimage to celebrate the beginning of the year.

The entire path was a series of large waterfalls, then a flat walk by the stream. Waterfall, stream. It was probably 2 or 3 miles long in total.

Do I even need to point out that this first waterfall is freaking enormous? Goodness. It was.

Then we went back to the Houvilles, where I watched a BBC show about King Cobras, then we had a nice little vegetable curry for dinner and a '99 Cote du Jura. There was a pretty sunset, too -- at 7 o'clock! I don't know what not to like about Spring.

macaron

2006-03-27T20:00:00.000+02:00

Yum.

This is actually my *second* favorite little treat here in France. My favorite favorite is a nice thick slice of flan - here, they make it as a thicker custard baked in a crust (either pate sucre or pate sable). The reason it edged out a nice, big, glossy, chocolate macaron is becuase macarons are a bit to sweet to be eaten in bulk. Flan, on the other hand, seems to be made just for that.

If you lived here...

2006-03-25T10:35:00.000+01:00

This is where you'd go to school:

These are the roads you would drive on:

This is where you'd go to church:

And where you would live (were you also rich):

This would be your history:

This is what you'd see on a foggy morning:

This is where you'd...uh...go skeet shooting:

This would be your path back home:

photodump

2006-03-24T12:13:00.000+01:00

Yes, two posts. I'm accumulating a glut of pictures again, since the last few weeks have been so nice. I still can't believe it, but it's actually spring here. No joke.

First, here's the little crocheted curtain. So cute I could puke.

Last saturday, I went to the Houville's for dinner to celebrate Pascal and Joaquin's birthdays. Before going there, Pascal and I took a little drive on the plateau. He took me to a tiny lake, only locally known. As a matter of fact, it's not even marked on my otherwise-perfect hiking map of the area. The only way to find it is to follow the two hand-lettered signs saying "Lac ->".

It is a beautiful little place - it reminded me of Pickeral lake, for anyone who is familiar with the Ann Arbor area. Now that place is the best. It's totally hidden, and you can only get there in a car, and with somebody who already knows how to get there. Incidentally, it's also mentioned on Sufjan Steven's first album, "Greetings from Michigan."

We saw some ducks there that I've never seen before. That was actually rather exciting for me!

Then, to a beautiful tiny church, nestled in some forgotten town.

Apparently, they were having a contest for Creepiest Grave in the cemetary. These two were tied as of last saturday:

country roads

2006-03-24T08:27:00.000+01:00

It's been a while since I've done my all-day walks. On monday, the weather was nice enough and I thought it would be good to enjoy it while I could (good thing I did, as it's been drizzling all week)

This walk was around 8 - 9 miles. That's a solid five hours of walking. I went up the cliff so I could walk on the plateau. The towns and villages around here, while small, are all connected with a small highway and don't feel very isolated. Up on the plateau, it's completely different. The villages are tiny, accessible via one-lane roads. The land stretches out all around. It's rather remote.
This is one of the reasons I like it here most. During my whole day, I saw a half dozen cars and the same number of tractors. Other than that, it was me and the birds. And a humongous hare which I scared up alongside the road. There's a very strong sense of freedom in this isolation.

On the way back through the forest, I noticed that the dampest, mossiest areas are now carpeted with little white flowers. It's so damn pretty.

le sigh

2006-03-23T19:55:00.000+01:00

Things aren't connecting well here chez pinsons. As usual, my post is photo-oriented and I just can't get anything to load. I either need to upload everything during the morning when nobody else is using the nextwork or become a better writer, so I won't need to rely on pictures.
...I expect things will be better tomorrow after my first class.

If you're really hard up for distractions, I recommend the Apartment Therapy apartment (surprise) contest. There are many gorgeous spaces there, but it's a little boring when so many look the same-- Ikea meets Dwell, la de dah. It would be nice to see something a bit warmer and cuter. Mostly cuter. As for my own thoughts on decorating, I recently had the idea to crochet little half-curtains...would you believe it - I actually found a little bakery here that has that on a side window. Not surprisingly, none of the apartments shown above have crocheted curtains.

2006-03-22T17:51:00.000+01:00

Oh hell, I'm feeling fashiony today. I won't pretend otherwise.

First, I was both happy and heartbroken to find my most-favorite-ever shoes by Marc (ahem) Jacobs on the Nordstrom website. I had seen these in a french Vogue my first month here and even cut it out to save. Of course, they're also $300 and a size too small.

I'd probably wear this dress with it, found in the Toast catalogue which arrived today.

Speaking of the french Vogue, I know that you probably don't ever read it, but I do. I never pick up the American one, but, dare I say, the french version is actually quite good. They have listings of interesting art events, reviews of whatever british pop band is going to be popular next month, a good clothes. The last few months were pretty boring, but there is a spread in the April issue by Patrick Demarchelier that totally blew me away...as in, that spread alone made my subscription worthwhile.

It's funny, because the last weekend I spent in Montbeliard, Catherine asked me to take some pictures of her wearing a new (totally fake) Fendi dress that she got off ebay. I went at it with gusto and immediately whipped up this fantasy of being the next big fashion photographer.

It didn't go far, of course. First, Catherine wasn't into my idea of being made to look like a hostage (a fabulous hostage), then didn't quite 'get' the idea of staging a large scale roadside auto accident (everyone in couture, of course). But look! Maybe my ideas weren't that crazy:

And last, I've noticed a bit of a trend:

These are actually from different brands. I'll take the flats, please.

washing day

2006-03-21T09:33:00.000+01:00

There's one place to do the laundry in town. It's got three small washers, one large one, and one enormous dryer. I'm usually the only person there. As much as I plan to read or knit, I'm most often mesmerized by the colors of the clothes swirling around inside the machines. The building is located on the street of the school, between the classroom buildings and the center of town. I'll sit and watch the kids walk by, often dressed in uniforms (which they must do when working in the restaurant or doing service classes), waving to the ones I know.

There's two important things to point out: 1. It is SO expensive to wash clothes here. 3.50eur for a wash, 1.50eur for 10 minutes in the dryer. It's 12eur for the big washer. In the states, it's - what?- a dollar for a wash and a quarter for the dryer? I hope I don't get too many looks when return to those good ol' US laundries and start kissing the oversized washing machines.

2. Laundry is a really nice word. I love the au together, the complementary shapes of un and Ld, and y is always a sweet way to end.

luck o' the french

2006-03-20T09:25:00.000+01:00

(I'm talking with a boy in my class, in french.):
He says: "Your french is not bad! Really, it's good!"
Me "Thanks. I've made a lot of progress, so I'm happy to hear that I've become better."
Him: "Your pronunciation is good, too. I like your accent."
Me: "Yes? This is true?"
Him: "Yeah! It's a nice accent. For me, it's....it's really sexy!"
Me: "oh."
Him: "Yeah, when you speak french to us in class, the boys all like it becuase we think it is sexy!
Me: "oh."

Why, you ask, would my student be revealing secrets which lead to embarassment for both parties, come classtime on wednesday morning? That's easy: beer! More specifically, St. Patrick's day beer. While I'm sorry to report that they do not serve large pitchers of green Miller Light here, which seems to me the only real way to celebrate the day*, little Poligny did show us Americans up a bit. In the morning, there was a belated Carnaval parade through town for the little kids. It was similar to how my elementary school does a halloween parade across the playground, except this was all the kids in town dressed up, walking the main road through the village, throwing confetti, banging drums...all followed by the chief of police himself, bringing up the rear. [What warmed my heart even more was how some of the lycee kids next to me gave an exaggerated cheer for the Chief, who responded with a friendly-yet-stern "Ok. That's enough." Taunting police -- the universal experience.]

*and, I suppose, is why I haven't celebrated much in the last three years

This was followed in the evening with a little party for the whole town. Before that, I was in Shopi (the small grocery store next to my apartment) buying food for the weekend. The girl who works in the evenings, and who is unbelieveably sweet to me, asked me if I knew about the party. I said no, so she told me about what was to go on, then said, "I'm going for a drink after work, so I hope to see you there!" This small-town stuff really gets me to absolutely no end.

In the place in the middle of town, they had erected a smallish tent. Inside, half the town packed in to buy very good, very local beer...and waffles. With nutella. Some musicians from town were playing irish music. I bumped into some of my friends, then saw other, more drunk, students -- which, you see, led up to the conversation above. It was a wonderful evening, with a constant stream of Polinoises whom I've come to know (the woman from the bakery, the person at the glass shop, the old man who owns the antique store, etc.) passing buy and saying hello. Even now, writing this, I feel a little choked up thinking about how much I love this place, how lucky I feel to have become a part of their lives, even for just a year.

On a much less sentimental note, I will share two other things I learned friday night. When I saw my friends sitting on a bench, I walked over and said to Lucie, "Hey, move over." They all burst out laughing, which made my insides die a little -- I knew that I said something which I didn't really mean. "You know, that's not very polite," she said "It's okay to say with me, or a close friend, but it's pretty coarse." A similar explanation followed when I described something as degolas. That word, which I thought was a general expression for 'unsavoury' or 'gross' isn't as rude, but it's certainly isn't part of polite conversation.

To illustrate, this is the rough equivalent to what I've been saying for, oh, the last four months.

1. I open the classroom door and motion for the students to go in. "Okay kids, move your goddamn asses."
2. Someone offers me a piece of really ripe, moldy, funky cheese. "No thanks, it smells a bit too crappy for me."

(note: the publishing program is giving me a bit of trouble again, this time not letting me upload any pictures. it may cause some irregular posting until things get straightened out.)

2006-03-18T11:45:00.000+01:00

Oh goody! Today is the open house for the dairy school in town, and they're using the extra room in my suite as the example for student housing. I had forgotten that special rush you get when a total stranger barges into your room. Or that little thrill you feel when you are taking a shower and you hear people repeatedly and forcefully trying to open the door. Or! when you're out of the shower, hearing swarms of people just on the other side of that door, not knowing how long they'll be there, and remembering that you forgot to lock your door when you were in the shower! Silly you! How could you forget the deep french desire to force one's way into any closed-off space.

[Note to all who read this: when you go to france and you use a public bathroom, be sure to lock the door. There is no knocking here. I should clarify -- make sure the door is locked well. People often aren't satisfied with the first try at the door. They'll give it a few good, hard shoves just to make sure. Trust me on this one, as, once again, I've learned the hard way.]

Ahhhh, there's nothing like walking through a crowd of 50 strangers wearing only a towel to really start your day.

recent acquisitions

2006-03-17T08:50:00.000+01:00

I got these two things in Spain:
Everybody says that espadrilles are comfortable and it's true. They're noticeably comfortable. There's a whole spiel about how they were made by some old-fashioned espadrille maker in Spain -- I'm a total sucker for that sort of thing, of course. Also, I think they'll look especially cute with black tights.

The purse was on sale from winter stock - it's nearly out of season, but I'm pretty stoked that I'll have it for next year. One of the best things in buying it was talking to the boutique owner, a transplant from London, about the genie/diaper pants that are popular here in Europe.

I found this Lyon:
We walked past an antique store, where I spied this port set on a table inside. I immediately fell in love, so we made it a point to return. The shop owner lowered the price (a total steal) and said that it was from 1952-58. It will be quite a task getting it home - the large bottle is especially fragile. There's a whole set of glasses, too. I guess I have to start drinking port.

Like cute little soldiers, all lined up.

Okay, while I'm on the consumerist train, are you wondering what to get me for my birthday? I know it's in 6 months, but if you ask me this question at an appropriate time, I'll probably give you a very unhelpful answer.
So! While I have some ideas...
1. A lomo camera
2. This sweatshirt
3. A cute little print like this (sold out, unfortch) or this
4. An interesting book. (see 9/14/05 - it has interesting knitting patterns which I find typical in japanese design, with an emphasis on structure and drape)
5. Maybe some nice yarn, something special that I wouldn't normally buy for myself, just for a cute little project. We could even go shopping and pick it out together, then maybe get coffee afterwards. It would be fun!

Still with me? Here's your reward -- student work from my BTS class. We did exquisite corpse stories, which I made the mistake of reading aloud in class... See, most of the kids struggle to put simple sentences together, but they have a staggeringly large vocabulary when it comes to sexual deviance. That's all I'm going to say about that.

This is the cleanest one I can share with you all:
This is the story of Mimi the little mouse, she was very fat, very very fat. One day she decided to make sporte. Stop the fat! She started with a bit of running, football, but a sport in room was her favorite one. She tryed but she was so fat.
She was not so fat, but she like eat sausages. She run all days with her dog. She like play bowling.
Bowling is difficult because the balls are heavy. She like too music, but she sing very bad.
She like a sexy music and manga music. She dance very bad too.
So you can offer to her a glass of wine and when she has got too drink you can propose to her to go in your bed.
So in the country where there are lot of children, it's because people drink a lot.

Have a good day, everyone!

early dawning sunday morning

2006-03-16T09:25:00.000+01:00

I don't know about you guys, but the bird songs around here in the morning are really outrageous. Chirping, cooing, caws, full-out singing. It's really amazing.

This is the second part of my weekend...

The thing with living in a small town is that the trains don't stop as often as they do in all larger towns. The last train leaving Lyon which stopped in Poligny left at 2:30, which would make the day of sightseeing far too short. We decided it would be best to instead go directly to Montbeliard (it's 4 hours away, as opposed to the 2 for poligny, but there's five times as many trains) for the rest of the weekend.

So, that's how I ended up staying with Catherine et al. on Sunday and Monday. Both nights, we slept at Sylvia and Nicole's apartment (the girls who also went to Barcelona) because they have a large guest bed. A few other assistants came over, and we had a proper lazy day, baking yogurt cake and zucchini bread, taking a walk in the cold wind.

Yesterday morning, we went back to Catherine's room. We didn't do much, but it was nice to spend the day with someone rather than alone knitting.

Look! She's wearing the wrap I made her! She likes it, which made me so happy. She even showed everyone else this weekend -- it's the best feeling to know that other people think it's beautiful and, most importantly, that the gift-ee loves wearing it.

I ain't lyin'

2006-03-15T14:11:00.000+01:00

Hello! I was blocked from posting on this here page for the last few days, as robots* mistakenly identified my little thing as a spam blog. Oh well.

BUY DISCOUNT HEALTH INSURANCE.

*yes, really. And yes, I'm somewhat pleased with that reason.

So! This last weekend was a rather lovely one. Catherine and I took a day trip to Lyon. Like most large cities, it was nice to wander about...but it would have been better with someone who knows the city. Through this year, though, I've gotten better at scanning the guide book and making a reasonable plan of action for seeing a city in the time allotted. It's good to have Catherine there, as she's always ready when I drop the ball - be it with directions, general stupidity, or any matter of unnecessarialy freaking out.

Lyon is the second (or third, I've heard both) largest city in France. People declare that it is the most gastronomic (a word that I've used a staggering number of times this year, working in a culinary school). There's a large student population, which nearly always means a lot of nice bars and cafes. In general, a lot of people really love Lyon - some much more so than Paris. Of course, those people are country folk, so a city of just over a million is probably a comfortably large city for them.

It IS beautiful, there is no doubt about that. The old part of the downtown is a protected UNESCO site...but, unfortunately, filled with tourist shops. On two sides of the city, there are large hills which offer spectacular views of the city. Oh, and if you're not in good shape before you come here, you'll be mad fit by the time you leave. There's a lot of stairs everywhere.
,

The best surprise for the day was going into the enormous basilica on the very top of the biggest hill. Now, if you spend any time in Europe, there's a tendency for big old churches to start to look the same. This one, however, was one of the most beautiful I've ever seen -- I'd say this one and St. Matthias Church in Buda (of Budapest) are my absolute favorites.

I have never, ever seen mosiacs like this. They covered nearly every surface.

This is NOT part of the church, interestingly:

Of all the pictures I have taken in France, this one is probably the most French:

And here's everything else:

haute lunchlady

2006-03-10T14:13:00.000+01:00

I worked in the kitchen this morning! My BTS kids cook the lunch service on Thursdays and Fridays, so they invited me to join them today. I was kind of nervous when I first got in - that nightmare like feeling of everyone bustling around you, knowing what to do, but you standing there totally helpless. Also, I was wearing a uniform two sizes to small. That was a bit of a nightmare, as well -- especially the pants.

This is Mathilde - the girl who loaned me a kitchen uniform. Honestly, I'm really flattered that she was picked as being the same size as me, because if you saw her in person, you'd notice that she's very thin. Well, two sizes smaller than me, anyway.

She saw me looking lost and asked me if I wanted to help her make the desserts. I actually did get to do work with them. I've mentioned to some of them before that I really enjoy cooking and baking, but I think that they were surprised that I could actually do it. We made a charlotte, with a biscuit base. Mathilde was explaining the process of making the cake and I said, "Oh, it's like a genoise?" She said, "Well yes! Exactly!" and then let me assemble the whole thing myself.
Of course, her technical skills FAR surpass mine, evidenced by how she threw together this unbelieveably delicious raspberry mousse at the same time as making caramel-dipped cherries.

Making the charlotte:

Watching all of this action makes me want to go home and enroll in cooking school. The time passes so quickly - everybody is busy with a 100 small tasks to do. It was really, really fun to be able to be one of these people working in the kitchen. Hopefully next time I'll graduate from the hairnet to a real paper hat.

Cultural sensitivity training

2006-03-09T19:17:00.000+01:00

1. A young couple are walking ahead of me. The three of us are in the middle of the street, which isn't unusual, as it's unnecessary to walk on the sidewalk on these tiny roads. Or, I should clarify, there isn't much of a sidewalk to speak of on all but the largest streets.
The couple looks around 18 or 19. They are both smoking cigarettes. An older man on a bike approaches - he also has a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He slows down as he passes, so that he can shake hands with the boy. They both say "Ca va? Ouai, ca va" and the man never stops his bike, nor do either stop smoking.

2. I stop in the bakery for bread at 4:15. I don't see any in the baskets as I walk in, but I continue, saying hello to the woman who always works there and knows me. "There's no bread?" I ask. "No," she says, "But there's this little piece. Here. Just take it -- it's too small to sell to you." I say thanks, she says, see you next time.

3. I enter the classroom and see "Wetbacks" written up on the chalkboard. "Why is that there?" I ask the teacher. He explains that this term is commonly used in reference to Mexican immigrants in America. "Well, yeah, but....that's really offensive! They shouldn't teach the kids here that term!" "Really?" the teacher asks. "Why is it so bad?" "Well....it's...it just is. That's a really inappropriate thing for them to learn."
I take my half of the class into my class. "Do you remember how you learned the word 'wetback" just now?" I ask. They look at me with faces as blank as fresh snow. "Wetback," I repeat, "Wetback!" Still, nothing. This is already the most times I've said 'wetback' in a conversation, and I know it will just keep getting worse.
'I can't fucking believe I'm doing this,' I think as I pick up the chalk and write W...E...T...B -- finally, they understand what I'm saying. "Okay, 'wetback' is a really bad word. You can't ever say that. Do you understand?" They do, maybe. "Really, it's very, very bad." I take the chalk and draw a circle around the word then a line through it. Now it looks like 'No wetbacks allowed!' Perhaps I'm just confusing the matter...

on fait du fete?

2006-03-09T10:54:00.000+01:00

Last wednesday, I went to a party with a bunch of my students, at the apartment of some guy who works at a winemaker. The beverage of the evening was Macvin, a combination of whiskey-like liquor and wine made from pressing raisins - it's very sweet and very strong. And it makes people very drunk.
Last night, he had another party. This time we all drank cremant du jura - it's just the locally made sparkling wine. Oh, and a lot of people got drunk again.

These are all of my students in the second year of the BTS program:

This was around the time I decided it was appropriate to leave:

dentelle

2006-03-08T19:13:00.000+01:00

Over the past year, I've tried to make myself a knit lace wrap. For some reason, things never worked out and every time I tried, I ended up with some unexplainable error, feeling very frustrated.
I thought it would be a good idea to try a different, perhaps easier, pattern for practice. There was some yarn on hand and Catherine's birthday coming up, so it seemed like a good time to have another try at it. I knew that even if I made mistakes, she wouldn't notice or mind.

Well, I was like a junkie knitting this. I did it all in less than a week, using every last inch of yarn.

Here is it, freshly finished, looking shriveled and wholly unimpressive.

A hearty streching and blocking followed.

And, finally, the finished product. Look how much it grew!

No, seriously. Look at that first picture to see how it began. Isn't that amazing that it got SO much bigger?

The process of wetting and stretching the lace, called blocking, completely opens up the whole pattern. It was transformed from nothing to gorgeous. The beauty is entirely in the pattern - it was dead easy to knit and required very little skill on my part. That's partly what makes it so satisfying - I put in so little effort and got such a big reward.

Now, honestly, I can't stop looking at it. I can't wait to give it to her, either.

I'm definitely going to make more of these.

thanks again, mom and dad, for sending me the pattern.

blue days

2006-03-07T10:34:00.000+01:00

Last week, it snowed, then it rained. I was walking home through the rain on saturday night thinking about how cold it was and how i was surprised it wasn't actually snowing. I guess the clouds heard me, because it immediately started snowing when I got back inside. It snowed and snowed. On sunday, the sun came out and it was the most beautiful day. Everybody took walks since it wasn't very cold. We didn't even need coats! All of the birds went out to take a walk too. They took walks and sat in the trees and sang to each other.

The end.

health nut

2006-03-06T12:02:00.000+01:00

Want to know what I've eaten today? For breakfast, I had some cereal and a piece of flan that I bought yesterday. Note that flan here is different than the caramel custardwe are used to -- it's custard, but thicker, more vanilla flavored, baked in a tart crust, and my number-one-best-buddy-high-five favorite thing to eat here.
I bought it yesterday from the little confection shop - the only one open on sunday. Their flan is good, but it's not the best.
When I was at the *good* bakery this morning, picking up fresh bread, I saw that today they made flan, too. Their flan is great and they make it seldom. Having already eaten a piece for breakfast, I rationalized that I could buy another piece and have it tomorrow!

....Or, I could buy another piece, and have it with coffee for lunch! So, for lunch, I ate a second piece of flan and a banana. I'm telling myself that it's not that terribly unhealthy, since I didn't eat anything else. It really would have been a shame to wait, anyway, as the perfect crumb of the pate sable crust would have been ruined after sitting for so long.

Speaking of health nuts, I'm in good company here in France. You know how we talk about America being a real meat-and-potatoes kind of place? America is a PETA activist compared to the Jura. I'm not sure why they sell other vegetables, as all I've been served at French people's homes has been meat and potatoes in some combination.

In fact, here are the three regional speciality dishes:
1. Fondue - made with comte cheese, a cote du Jura wine, and bread. Period.
2. Raclette - melted slices of cheese poured over potatoes and sausage - usually with another vegetable, which I've completely hogged every time I've eaten it, since I'm not too heartily down with the saus.
3. Tartiflette - chopped up thick-cut bacon, layered with potatoes, covered in cream and [comte, duh] cheese and baked.

Finish it off with a slice of cake and some whiskey, chain smoke for an hour, and you can call yourself francais.

These pictures are from last tuesday, Mardi Gras, when a student had me over for crepes.

Somehow, the evening usually turns into a drinking games -- either song-based or, as shown here, a variation of 'quarters.' They never do these games with beer, like any good American would, but with sparkling wine, different mixed drinks, schnapps-like (gag) beverages.

I don't know how they're not all dead by the age of 28. Seriously.

tagged

2006-03-03T19:26:00.000+01:00

So, if you're one of the 10 people who actually reads this page, you already know that the screening of Chicago360 is tonight -- the project for which Jim made his short film. It's very strange (and a little sad) for me to not be there today, as this is such a big day for him. I've already seen the movie (many times, as I showed it to my oldest classes) and I know that you, also, will be very impressed.

I'm very proud of you, Jim.

Here's the final set of photos from my trip.
Graffiti in Barcelona is more than just tagging. It's not criminalized (though, I don't know the specific laws) and people seem to take it much more seriously. In fact, it's art. This is one of the most amazing, beautiful things about the city -- something that makes it colorful and beautiful.

Barcelona, part something: Stiges

2006-03-03T13:37:00.000+01:00

Yeah, here's more pictures. I keep putting them up in hopes that it provides a bit of a break from reality for you, as you read this. Not like my life is so unspeakably fabulous -- I just know that, as you sit at your desk at work, it's pleasant to escape for a moment.
Or, if you're sitting in your oven-less kitchen, watching the rain and wind whip by out the window, completely destroying all plans to take a walk this afternoon. This merits escape to Spain as well.

Here, we went to Stiges. That's pronounced "See-Chase" NOT "Steezh," which is the French pronunciation. If you pronounce it the French, way, I can promise you that nobody will understand you. Certainly not the guy selling tickets at the train station.
Here we go! On the train out to SEE-CHASE:

The best thing about going to a tourist town in February is that you all of the charm and none of the tourists:

And another picnic by the water:

A walk through uncharted territory:

So...we decided to walk up these hills on the edge of town. It was fun, sort of, but I had all sorts of scratches on my legs, since I was wearing a skirt. And Catherine fell on a cactus. That one's still healing.

Doesn't it look like I'm wearing an ill-fitting wig?

God, gross. What's up with that color, too? The best part, though, is how, even from this far away, you can see my dark roots. I STILL haven't re-colored it, but I did force a pair of scissors into Catherine's hands and made her cut my hair after I saw all of the pictures from the trip. For the record, I'm trying to grow my hair out into an Old-Hollywood-style bob. I tried last summer, too, but I didn't have the patience to get through the gross-hair phase of growing it out.

Oh, and then we saw this:

Barcelona, part 5: hey pretty city

2006-03-02T13:35:00.000+01:00

More pictures about town...

In the market...

The picasso museum...

Place Reial, for an inexpensive morning coffee...

A dinner of olives and wine...

barcelona 4 - the beach

2006-03-01T19:45:00.000+01:00

The last few days have been quite pleasant. Last night, I went to a student's house for a crepe party. Today, Catherine had a free day and didn't want to spend it alone in her room, stranded in her bleak industrial town. So she came down here, napped this morning while I was in class; we made lunch and watched Ali G in the afternoon; during my last class she took a walk up the cliffs. It's been snowing off and on the last two days -- when it's not snowing, the sky is clear and blue, when it is snowing, thick bright clouds roll in and dust merry little flakes everywhere.
Tonight I'm going to meet some students for a drink. I'm not sure who SMSed me - he identified himself as Gregi Frog. Of course, I only know, like, four of my student's names, so it's always a little surprise.

To all of those who wore scarves today, I apologize. This is what I got to enjoy for a week in Spain:

Barcelona part 3.5: guell park picnic

2006-02-28T10:25:00.000+01:00

Despite very cold, yet distinctly spring-like weather yesterday, it has been snowing all morning. It's a very bright and pretty snow, but at this point, it's no match for a beautiful warm day. Thus, I give you these. A glorious afternoon, warm and windy, having lunch in Guell Park.

Here is where we ate:

Here us our view from the picnic table:

Here is me and Catherine:

Here we are on a walk through some dusty backroads:

Here is some bright sun:

Here is a little hill, where we saw lots of people sitting. We were curious about why so many people were camped out up there, so we took a look for ourselves.

It was beautiful.

barcelona, pt. 3: gaudi goin' on

2006-02-27T10:52:00.000+01:00

One of the main tourist attractions in Barcelona is the architecture of Gaudi. Indeed, it really is something to see all of these works in person. We set out one day to see all of the buildings, but quickly realized that some of the 'minor' ones somewhat blended in to the surrounding structures. Here are the most interesting ones we saw.

You know what - these pictures are kind of crappy. If you want, just look up gaudi + barcelona, and you'll find more interesting shots.

The Sagrada Familia:

The construction on this began in 1882 as a temple for the royal family. Actually, Gaudi died when we was hit by a car while walking home from overseeing construction one day in 1926. The temple is still under construction -- it's estimated that it won't be finished for another 30 years. It's really amazing to see something like this - that will plausibly last for hundreds and hundreds more actually being built. Even the postcards for the Sagrada Familia are outdated, since it constantly keeps growing.

Finally, Park Guell:

Unfortunately, pictures really don't do this justice. Entering the park is like stepping into some little fairy land overlooking the city. It's tucked up on the north end of the city, in the charming Gracia neighborhood. There's open spaces for kids to play soccer, benches to look out to the sea, areas to sit for picnics (which, of course, is what we did), paths for walking. The scrubby-yet-green hills mixed with the sunshine reminded me of California - and made me think that maybe my brother wasn't so crazy to move there, after all...

It is a beautiful day today - bright sun, no clouds or fog, pleasantly brisk. It feels like spring, which, I'm told, actually does begin in March here. The thing is, I've forgotten exactly what to do with this good weather. Should I go outside? And do what? There's a line in a Bonnie Prince Billy song that goes, "When you live like a hermit, you forget what you know." That's really the only way to explain it, I suppose...

I guess I'll start by going to the market.

done got knit

2006-02-26T21:28:00.000+01:00

On my vacation, I met two girls that Sylvia knew from college, who were studying in Barcelona for two months. One of them, a really dynamic storyteller, told us about how she had lived in the South and heard the phrase, "Get 'er done" used as a sign of approval. Anybody else who is from the South or has lived there: can I get an confirmation on this? I'm not sure where she stayed, so I know that's a big difference... but...

I finished up that sweater before the trip. The last buttonholes were sewn and the ends were woven in on the train up to Montbeliard. When I got there, I realized that I had forgotten the buttons, so I couldn't wear it on the trip.

Well, it's all fixed up now. I'm pretty happy with the final product.

There's pros and cons, of course. On the good side, the whole thing was inexpensive to make, quick and fun to knit, the fabric has a nice drape and a soft sheen, I got to use turtle buttons, the colors are great, and it really turned out how I had planned. I think the fit's pretty good -- it's not unflattering, anyway.
Cons: I wish I had made the raglan seam a bit longer (it's not tight under the arm, but it would have been better with another half inch), one of the sleeves is smaller with a crappy-looking band, the button part gaps a bit. I'm not sure if I just have to grin and bear that, or if moving the buttons in a bit will help.

For all of it's imperfections, it turned out well, consider I didn't work with any pattern. Of course, I never work with a pattern, so this is all part of the learning curve. The finishing work (sewing together and whatnot) on this is perhaps the best I've done. I think I'll probably wear this a fair amount, especially when I'm working in a more formal setting again, as it's a more "officey" sweater.

Recently, I promised myself that I would only knit for myself this year. I am a fool for even thinking that. Right now, I'm working on a couple pair of socks, an afghan, and (anticipating) a lace wrap -- all for other people. For myself, I had an idea of a really simple sweater embellished with a flower, like I saw in the January issue of the french Vogue, then I'd like to make myself a little top for Karlin and Well's wedding. I've got seven whole months, too! Get 'er done!

THIS WASN'T INTERESTING FOR ANYBODY, WAS IT? Well, I had to get it out of my system anyway. Now we can both go on with our lives.

Barcelona, part 2

2006-02-26T10:04:00.000+01:00

In my dorm, the network connection has the tendency to be rather spotty. I suspect that it's mostly due to a bunch of 18 year-old boys downloading Slipknot off of Limewire, which tends to gobble the available bandwidth. Most of the people go home on the weekends (except my upstairs neighbors who apparently get their kicks by dropping marbles all day. hi guys!) the internet connection is faster.
Why I am telling you this? Well, since I could quickly and sucessfully load photos into blogger, I took the opportunity to put all of my pictures into draft entries. I had to divide it up into seven different pages -- the same amount of time I was actually in Barcelona. It's like a little vacation for you, too!

It's very strange outside today. The fog came in overnight, but only settled on the cliffs next to town. Everything seems clear and unusually bright in town, with a solid white space in the distance, as if someone simply erased everything around us. The church bells are ringing right now. In addition to chiming the time, the bells ring for a whole minute at 10 o'clock and noon on sunday mornings. It's the most beautiful sound.

Back to Barcelona, these photos are from the fancy city park. As we were leaving, a French family stopped us as asked us, in French, where the zoo was. We had just passed the entrance, so I could give her directions..... in French! I don't know why I'm still so excited about this!

Orange trees!

Signs were posted everywhere for people to not play soccer. Nine times out of ten, they were completely ignored. Next to this lawn, we watched some boys play soccer with an orange that fell from the tree.

The arc de triomf:

For lunch, Catherine and I climbed up this funny hill on the west side of town. It's rather big, with an entirely leveled-off top. We were told it was tricky to find one's way up to the top, and it sure was. There was no marked footpath or signs or anything. We just had to pick a road and see where it took us. Afterward, we realized that there were a bunch of old Olympic stadia up there, a museum, and the Miro foundation -- none of which we saw.

Like any of that mattered, though, because we found this swing which we used for about half an hour.

Just like that, over and over.

Spanish boots of Spanish leather

2006-02-25T11:17:00.000+01:00

It's hard to form a cohesive narrative of this trip. We didn't plan out days beforehand, so every morning, we would pick a place to see or something to do. There was a lot of time spent having picnics, sitting on the beach, having coffees in cafes, walking around the city. In fact, I only went to one museum and inside no other 'local attraction' buildings, but I almost feel like I got to know Barcelona better than most other towns I've visited for a week.
Like I said, I completely fell into googly-eyed love for Barcelona. It's a magical, colorful, sunny little world. I can only imagine what it must be like in the summer... probably choked with tourists, the beaches packed... but probably even more lively and beautiful.

These photos were taken on the first and second day of the trip:

Waiting at the airport...

Our first evening in the city...
This is the big gothic cathedral. The picture shows the only part of it that wasn't covered in scaffolding.

Catherine, the constant traveling companion.

And, introducing my two new friends, Nicole and Sylvia. They're also English Assistants in Montbeliard. They both speak french really well and live in an adorable house in their town. Despite all of this, I still loved spending the week with them. Oh, and Sylvia is from Hyde Park.

A Picasso mural in the public square in front of the cathedral:

The next morning, Catherine and I walked down to the beach and around Barceloneta, the small neighborhood next to the water.

My new prawn friend. (Avert your eyes, Jim!)

At the port, then the beach.

Barceloneta, like a lot of the city, is mostly tiny streets, with balconies covered in drying laundry overhead.

hola, barcelona

2006-02-24T22:45:00.000+01:00

I'm back! Last week was one of the most amazing trips I've ever taken.
Here's my recommendation: forget whatever trip you're planning to take, and go to Barcelona instead.

I've got 200 pictures to sift through, so I'll start putting photos online tomorrow.

Nomads

2006-02-13T21:00:00.000+01:00

A pretty day, a little snow. I went up to the Croix du Dan, to try out using my SLR camera with real film! While I understand, in theory, how to correctly work my camera, I always feel like I'm blindly spinning the dials for each picture. Not surprisingly, a good number are dim or incorrectly exposed. Until I get better, I'm also bringing along my digital camera.

The first sign says that this is a tourist site, and that nomads are prohibited. I can only assume that the nomads are gypsies, who really do stay around here. There's a gypsy camp just a kilometer outside of town -- it's just a small trailer park. Some gypsy groups are nomadic, travelling around France as seasonal workers. The one next to Poligny has been there the whole time I have. They even have one shared mailbox. I was told to "be careful when you walk by....They wouldn't do anything to you, of course. But you should be careful. Oh, not that they're dangerous!" That's some good, solid, French advice if I've ever heard it. Every time I do walk by, which is relatively regularly, it seems like a really normal little trailer park. There's kids outside playing, someone working on a car, people yelling at each other inside the homes.
The first time I walked by, I saw the cutest little dog. He ran out to me on the street, barking, "Arf! Arf! Arf!," like he was reading it off a page. A car came around the corner, and it seemed for a second that it was going to hit the tiny (entirely unafraid) dog in the middle of the street. I waved my arms and yelled at the dog to go home. The car stopped. It was safe. Then some girl ran out of the trailer, scooped up the puppy as it ran towards her, and yelled, "Shut up!" to me. Some stereotypes are universal, it seems.

Other things:
1. A new girl just moved in tonight. I haven't spoken to her much yet. My immediate reaction is grumpiness towards this development, because I like to be alone! Get off my porch, you kids!
She seems really nice, though, and has all sorts of crunchy, healthy food in the fridge. Yes, this does make me more apt to like her. I hope she'll be nice and help me practice my french. Maybe she'll even be a friend! I hope so, as this means I can no longer have breakfast and coffee while wearing a towel, fresh out of the shower. That's quite a sacrifice.
(added: she also apparently bought new antidisinfectant spray and has sprayed everything down. Apparently my shower isn't clean enough for her. Bitch.)

2. This morning, I got a call from a number I didn't recognize. When I listened to the message, the only thing I could understand was "flowers." Flowers! Whatever the message is, it's got to be good if the person keeps talking about flowers.

Except, maybe if the message was like this: "Hi, I was just calling to find out what sort of flowers you want on your grave. Because I'm coming over to kill out, but I thought you might like to choose your flowers before you go."

So, I guess this makes today EVEN BETTER, since that wasn't the message that I recieved. It was, in fact, the shop in town telling me that I had flowers waiting for me. I did! It was true! Jim sent them to me! Aren't they pretty?

3. I'm going to Spain! On Wednesday! We're on a two week holiday right now, so Catherine and I are going to spend a week in Barcelona. I don't think I mentioned that before, so... surprise!
Catherine found a cheap round-trip flight and I found an inexpensive hostel. The temperature today was in the 60's, so I've got my fingers and toes crossed that the weather stays nice.

Um, that means I've got to go. I actually spent most of today watching the Olymic snowboarding and finishing my green sweater....almost finishing. I'm working on the neckband right now.
Anyway, this means I've got to pack and put together all of my tourist details. Like, now.

So have a good week! Hopefully blogger will allow me to load pictures when I get back...

The Sweet Shop

2006-02-12T00:13:00.000+01:00

"The Sweet Shop" is the name of Jodie Sweetin's personal website. I mention this only because it shows up in the brower bar, whenever I type in the address for Josie's website (since they both begin with 'jo'.) I get such a kick out of seeing jodiesweetin.net that I don't ever want to have to clear out the stored sites from the browser...which, I might add, is one of my favorite little things to do. It's like cleaning, with just the click of a button!

This introduction merits two other comments:

1. This morning, I jumped out of bed at 8, then had my entire apartment cleaned in an hour. Floors washed and all. An hour! Whoever else is impressed, please raise your hand.

Okay, you can put your hands down now.

2. I have looked at Jodie Sweetin's site recently, since she, for some reason, came out with some big public statement about how she was a meth junkie and has cleaned up her act. I was telling Catherine about this news, but I couldn't remember J.S.'s name, so I kept calling her Stephanie Tanner. When we got back to my apartment, the first thing I did was fire up google and searched "Stephanie Tanner meth." Sure enough, all of the first ten hits were about this story. Catherine said, "It's so great that we live in an age where we can find this sort of information by typing anything we want into a search page."

Still with me? Good. This afternoon, I went out to do some sightseeing with Bernard and Pauline. Today we actually went out of the Jura into the Burgundy region to Tornus. Tornus is a town that really embodies this strange understanding that I've had about human culture and civilization, since I've come here.

Think about rural America, the small towns that you drive through in rural areas. From what I've seen, in the midwest, it seems like people go to a spot to work; other business is brought in to sustain those people there. Fartsville, IL (pop 2,657) is a town of farms and a big clown shoe factory. That's why people live there, because they can make clown shoes. In order to sustain them, Walmart and DairyQueen have been set up, in addition to the other local stores and the John Deere dealer.

Here, on the other hand, rural towns seem more like an example taken out of basic history books. People came to this area for whatever reason, probably because it was on a river, and started to civilize. To build civilization. How can all of these people live here? We'll start stores, based on basic supply and demand, in order to establish a system of trade for goods and services. Is there a factory? No. How about farms? Yeah, some. Five bakeries on every block? Hell yes. An antique book store? Why not? A basket shop? People need baskets.

It feels bizarre to go into these towns, even if they're somewhat poor like Tornus is, and see a thriving little community full of cafes and specality stores. And it all exists simply to sustain itself. Even crazier is that it's existed like this for a long time. How long? Well, this church was built by Romans in the 9th century.

This whippersnapper, on the otherhand, was built in the 11th century.

This, of course, is the other reason a lot of these towns still exist: tourism. I went there today, didn't I?

A few lost bits

2006-02-10T22:52:00.000+01:00

I've been trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I've been here in France for four and a half months, which feels like a blink, and also that I only have two and a half months left in my contract. It's funny that, before I left, this all felt like such a monumental and long-term committment; that I'd be handing over a year (oh heavens!) of my life to this life-course-altering experience of Living Abroad. Really, it's little more than an extended holiday. It's like I'm a much dumber person, who has only half a grasp on the language and local ways, who is enjoyed a realllllly long weekend.

That's not to cast it in a negative light. I mean the whole "dumber person" and "half a grasp" in a fun, wonderful way.

Anyway, I've also realized that some things are really becoming normal to me. So normal, in fact, that it doesn't even occur to me to share with people.

When Jim came to visit me, we had this moment when we first walked into town. I was talking about something really insipid, not thinking about the route, as it is the same one I walk to school every day. In a pause during my monologue, Jim said, "This is amazing!" Then I realized that... well, gosh. It is pretty amazing, especially when it's the first time you've ever seen a town like this. I sort of forgot.

This isn't to say that I'm taking this place for granted. I don't know how that would be possible. What I am feeling now, though, is similar to some pre-nostalgic high school senior, months before graduation, saying to myself, "This is the tenth-to-last time I'll ever..." um, I don't know, "buy coffee at Shopi." Suddenly, I'm feeling like I have to take note of every little thing that I see think of every day, as it will, someday, end.

So, in order to get this ball rolling, this little ball of unrecorded things that I'd like to record in my "I'll never forget math class with you!" yearbook sort of way, I'll tell you about the amateur autoshop that goes on behind my building. From my window, you can see a long garage, with 10 ports. In this town, very few buildings have attached garages, or basements, for that matter, so storage space is at a premium. With most of the garages, I never see anybody come or go. Generally, it's a gathering spot for the town's many, many stray cats and that's that. One space, though, is often used. A family has a blue SmartCar, which leaves and returns every day. I've seen the guy working on his car often throughout the year. Recently, though, he's been working on other's cars as well. On the weekend, at about 8 o'clock, people start to gather. It's ususally three men (who actually wear blue coveralls!), a couple of wives and two to four children. The blue SmartCar is there, along with another being worked on, and the junky shell of an old car from which they're salvaging parts. These people spend nearly their whole weekends standing around and working on the cars. Sometimes the radio plays really loudly, but mostly I can just hear everyone chatting and the kids running around, entertaining themselves. Around 1 o'clock, they all leave for lunch. I always think about them, how good it must feel to walk inside after standing in the cold all morning. I always think about how they're probably hungry and how they'll enjoy a huge french lunch with wine and bread and coffee and desserts. I bet they love that, taking off their cold coats and sitting down at the table.

party, schmarty

2006-02-10T00:10:00.000+01:00

So yesterday, a kid asked me if I would join him at his aparment for dinner. Then a few other kids, like 3 or 4, asked me if I'd be joining them for tartiflette that night. I thought it would be a casual dinner with a few people....

I had no idea that it would end with half the class drunk, singing along with "We Be Burning" in a conga line through the apartment. This boy had 30 people over for dinner and wine. Lots and lots of wine. I ended up leaving, with most of my faced covered in marker, actually finding it difficult to correctly tie my shoes.

The biggest different between parties in France and America? The organized singing. There's at least three songs here that are....well, for lack of a better term... drinking songs. Throughout the dinner, everybody got their chance, prompted by the singing, to throw back a glass of wine. It got less civilized from there on out.

These kids get crazy, yo.

Of plastic birds and epic wars.

2006-02-08T13:58:00.000+01:00

I was feeling sick at the end of last week, through the weekend. It seemed like a cold, but only up in my head. Or else some small michevious elf came and packed cement into my sinuses. The little sprite!
Yesterday, I started to get serious upper-palate sensitivity. What does it feel like? Well, with every step, it feels sort of like my upper teeth are going to fall out. Maybe it wasn't a cold and was a sinus infection. It's getting better anyway.

I can't say that I'm the fastest knitter, but I can crank stuff when I'm particularly inspired. In, like, October I picked up some really cute light olive green yarn, without too much idea of what to do with it. Last wednesday, the fully-actualized image of a garment came to me, so I did the math and started knitting on Thursday night.

I included the light blue trim on the bottom, remembering a great combination that Kate would wear of a similar light-blue/olive-green. She is, after all, the master of color-combining.
In about three days of knitting, it's more than halfway done. It's like I'm not even trying.

These were bought in Paris. They'd be mostly useless as clothespins, but the fact that they look like birds totally redeem and justify their (now totally useful!) existence!!

I'm particularly digging on this color combination. It looks very "Tim" to me. Hmm, Tim could also be a threat to Katie's throne in the kingdom of Color-Combinsville. I propose they arrange a battle.

(the colors aren't quite right. it's very compelling in real life...well, as compelling as four plasic bird clips can be.)

It should be a fight to the death, obviously. Just to keep it interesting.

I'm watching a program about an albino crocodile right now. Thanks, France.

All work and no play

2006-02-07T09:14:00.000+01:00

Catherine and I went out for a walk on Sunday. It was such a pretty day...unlike yesterday and today. Where we went has been officially dubbed the "favorite walk." I'm sorry to all whom have visited and haven't been taken on it. You went, though, Bri -- it was all just covered with two feet of fresh snow.

I'm contemplating living on a farm, just so I can own a couple of donkeys. Simply for the cute factor.

Last night, I went to do some 'extra conversation practice' with a few students. Another girl who lives in the dorm had me and three other kids over. These students are unbelieveably clean - every apartment i've been in is uncluttered and freshly-scrubbed. Also, they have an 'entertaining' chip in their brain which wasn't implanted in any of ours. Just for five people to sit and practice conversation, they brought out two boxes of cookies, a bottle of juice and coke, and a bottle of champagne.
I had a really nice time with them...despite the fact that one boy only kept talking about how Americans all love George Bush, eat McDonald's every day, and spend their free time watching sports on TV and eating ice cream. I was like, "Okay, not all..."

I'm off to take a little walk, even though it's gross and crappy and cold out. I haven't left the building since sunday (because where would I go?), and I'm feeling a little "makes Jack a dull boy" right now.

Goodbye, toes. Hello, wine!

2006-02-06T09:58:00.000+01:00

I woke up on saturday to find that the snot factory in my head was still chugging away, and I didn't really feel much better. But, like the sport I am, I put that all aside because it was the day of the Percee du Vin Jaune! Catherine came to town in the morning, then we went to the train station in the afternoon to go over to Lons-le-Saunier.

There's a few things I should explain. First, that we wanted to take the first train that went into Lons after the Percee open in the afternoon -- so, everybody wanted to take the same train. Also, there are two types of trains that run on that line -- older, larger and new, small, futuristic-looking. For some reason, they decided to run the newer trains, with only two cars. I was getting nervous seeing about 200 people waiting at the station, then felt even worse when that tiny train already packed with people pulled up. We squeezed in, somehow. The train ride was about a half hour. That was a half hour of having my back so firmly squeezed against the girl behind me that I could feel her entire skeletal structure every time the train went around a slight curve.

Lons was really nicely decorated with little garlands of paper flower and people raring to get liquored up. When they handed over my 10 drink tickets, I could only count myself among them. I have to admit, I was a bit disappointed when I realized that they actually poured tasting amounts.

Over the four hours we were there, I probably consumed two modest glasses of wine. Those two glasses were immediately metabolized, too, in order for my body to not die of the cold. We also got some tartiflette to help stay alive. As we were eating, Catherine said, "I'd never eat this much back at home. I'd also never eat a whole meal of potatoes covered in cheese."
"God, me neither!" I said, "I guess these are the sacrifices we makes to be part of the culture."

Most of the vineyards had tables set up in the little cellars underneath stores and buildings. To get the wine, we had to go down the stone steps into a little dusty, cobwebby cave.

It was actually kind of charming. Plus, all of the people crammed into the small spaces created a bit of heat, otherwise totally absent from the day.

We stumbled upon a vintage wine auction, which was probably the coolest part of the day. First of all, I understood all of the numbers as they were being called out. This was one of the difficult things about learning french that I didn't expect. In this language, like a lot of other, the numbers seem to compound a lot of more significantly. For example, 98 is said "four-twenty-ten-eight." 170 is "hundred-sixty-ten." 16 is "sixteen," but seventeen "ten-seven." I was rather proud of myself that I have learned it all well enough that I could follow along with the bidding.
The part that might be interesting for you is the ages and prices of the wine. They were selling off bottles of wine from the mid-80s all the way to 1934. That one, the vin jaune from '34 (which does keep that long) , cost about 500USD. Most of the wine was from the 60s and 70s, and ran around 120 - 200 euro.

I might have misled you saying that they didn't have enough wine to get people drunk. In addition to the 10 samples glasses, they also had bottles for sale at all of the vendors. At very reasonable prices. And they'd open the bottle for you right at the table. So, groups of people were walking around town, sharing a bottle on the street. Ahh, france.

We had fun! Then we went home and ate a much more american meal: salad. Oh, and endive soup. We finished off the day by sharing a bottle of Cremant du Jura and three episodes of the first season of Project Runway.

keeping it short -- a dubbed version of Dismissed just came on!

2006-02-03T18:53:00.000+01:00

Ok, I'm not a person to watch a lot of music videos -- LEAST of all, rap videos. In general, I have a lot of issues* with insulting gender roles/expectations which are, often, all is to be found in these videos. Anyway. I happened to see two in the last week. One was entirely of early teen kids break dancing. Why can't they all be like that? The other was called, "Hey Sexy Woah," which I imagine is not popular in America. They have really, really, REA-EE-LEE bad English pop-rap that is basically nonsense -- and it's pretty popular. I guess these kids just don't know any better. So, "Hey Sexy Woah" it is.

*rage.

Hey! The eiffel tower is poking up through my head!

So here's finishing up the pictures from last weekend in Paris. Not much has been happening this week, but it's been really quiet and pleasant. The first three days, after Jim left, I felt kind of aimless, but I've gotten a new un-wintery wind of organization and productivity.
Well, until last night, when I got a cold. Tonight is entirely laying in bed and knitting while watching my Project Runway DVD (thanks Josie and Zac!).

I haven't mentioned much about my progress with the language, have I? It keeps getting easier, really. In fact, today I had a conversation with another teacher, and I realized it was the first time she spoke normally towards me. Likewise, I chatted really comfortably with her -- I even used the subject-verb inversion to ask a questions, instead of relying on est-ce que! And I didn't even think about it! Yeah!

Off to bed for me. I've got to be in fighting shape for tomorrow -- the Percee du Vin Jaune! Woooooooo! See, there's a wine that's unique the the Jura - even, in this area of the Jura. It's called vin jaune. The grapes have to be grown in specific soil, then aged for 6.5 years in the barrels. Normally, the barrels are topped off as the wine inside evaporates. With vin jaune, the wine isn't replaced, so over the six years, it concentrates. There's a whole other thing with the rotted grapes fermenting and creating a mold on top that preserves the wine, but I'd rather not think about that. New vin jaune has a slightly... well, a slightly off flavor. It tastes kind of dusty. As it ages - like, 20 or 30 years - it becomes something sublime. This is nice, nice stuff. Even a brand-new bottle will set you back 30 euro. Every year after that just adds up more.
So, every year, when it's time to take the 6.5 year-old vin jaune out of the barrels and bottle it up, they have a festival. Tomorrow, I'm going into Lons-le-Saunier, paying 15 euro for a glass, and tasting as much wine as I can before I.... become french.

Thanks for the letter, Kate!

Ow.

2006-02-02T16:42:00.000+01:00

I'm trying to do some (EXTREMELY BASIC) mathematics, but it's kind of bending my brain, and not in a pleasant way. I've decided to take a little break and slap some pictures up online.

So, last week when Jim was here, we went into Paris for the weekend. We saw the Louvre.

And Notre Dame.

Oh, and the day before, we went into Besancon. I found this pair of Camper boots for half price!

We went to the top of the Arc de Triomphe. It was 5 euro and SO worth the price! What a neat view of the city.

Mr. Arteest thought so, too.

The best part was watching the traffic circle at the base of the arc. I took a couple short video on my camera, but this connection is way too slow to even consider making it available to you.

("Why in god's name are you trying to do math?" you may ask. It's for figuring out demensions of a knitted gift. Don't worry.)

2006-02-01T14:25:00.000+01:00

filming here.

filming there.

filming, filming everywhere.

Back to business

2006-01-31T19:05:00.000+01:00

O pretty days! How you have been filled with fun!

Fun of seeing the small chateau (one of many) in the nearby village (a generous term) of Frontenay:

Poking around corners of Chateau-Chalon:

Basking in the freezing spray of the waterfall next to Baume-les-Messieurs (set inside a canyon, surrounded by cliffs, next to a cave! It's a geological funhouse!):

And why did I spend so many days out and enjoying myself? Because I got a visit from this particular cute head.

Luckily for me, the week that Jim came to visit was also the week that HALF of my classes were cancelled - all because of official meetings and training for my oldest students. I'll show the rest of the week later, when the internet connection is a little less patchy.

2006-01-23T21:08:00.000+01:00

Damn. My place is so clean.

I would like to disclose, right now, that when I finally have a place with a washer and dryer in the home, I will be one of those people who launders clothes, like, every other day. My mother is pumping her fists in victory right now, since two of my favorite things in the world have become a clean home (and wasssshhhhhed flooorrrrrssss) and fresh laundry.

In other news, I've become old.

Rules were made to be frozen!

2006-01-22T23:17:00.000+01:00

A snow day!

So, I guess it snowed in Chicago? My parents sent me these great pictures from their yard.

Look at all of those big trees! It was mighty nice having such a big yard growing up.
No snow here, though. It was a very bright, pretty day. It started out very foggy, though, and I found out that there's a cover of snow about 5 miles south, a bit farther up the plateau.

I've borrowed some movies from the Houvilles. When I perused their selection (of completely legally copied movies. Really.), I picked out all of those with french titles. It turns out, they're mostly all American films. Well, technically all, since "A Very Long Engagement" was produced by an American company, the french considered as such and wouldn't consider it for any national film awards, despite the fact that the entire cast and crew were French. And it was made in France. About French people. Anyway.
Last night, I watched "Pere et Fille." Any guesses?
No?
Okay, it was "Jersey Girl." Not very good, but at least it didn't make me want to swallow my tounge like "L'amour sans preavis" did.

Woah! Wow, this is really strange. Before looking up that last film, I thought about the song "Taking Care of Business" and was planning to add as a parting thought, "They really should start using that song Taking Care of Business in movies again. It's a shame it has become outmoded."
Then! I looked up that last movie to check the spelling of the french title. I was intrigued by the user review titled "Very good movie - contrary to other OPINIONS" and read (emphasis mine):

Some of my favorite scenes include the one where Sandra Bullock has eaten too much and has to go to the bathroom while they are stuck on a bridge in New York City. Adding the music "Taking Care Of Business" was really a stroke of genius. The "Bobcat Pretzel" scene was equally funny. The interjection of the appropriate music adds much to the results.

The people have spoken.

Maybe you think "Well, you just remember that they used that song in the movie!" Uh, that's definitely not the case. In fact, I really only half paid attention to the film, since I was also busy writing a letter to Tim about how horrible it was.

I think that I'm clearly on to something. In fact, I think I've got some business to take care of.

(Cue music: Taking Care of Business)

2006-01-20T08:04:00.000+01:00

Hobby #1:
Every morning, I take a picture of the sky outside of my window. Before I came here, I had seen only a handful of sunrises -- limited to super-early morning trips to the airport and during my student teaching, when I was travelling across the city at 6AM. Since Poligny is nestled next to a ridge that's 200 meters higher, the sun rise is a bit later for us -- and my window faces directly east, so I get a good view. Most mornings, I wake up to pink clouds streaked over the trees. Well, most mornings before these last two weeks. Even today, the sky seemed clear but in the last 20 minutes (as I was loading these pictures) the fog rolled in over the town. The most bizarre thing is that I can see the outline of the sun through the haze -- I'm sure if I went to the first town up the ridge, Plasne, that it would be a perfectly clear day.

Hobby #2:
Octopus playing drums. He's really getting better! I drew this one yesterday during class, while the two other kids in the room worked on a writing activity. The boy who was there wrote the french word, Pieuvre, underneath.

2006-01-19T17:48:00.000+01:00

Last weekend's episode of "Living on Earth" (distributed by NPR, available as a podcast on iTunes) discussed the levels of mercury in fish.

On guy, from the Center for Consumer Freedom, is disputing the studies that mercury in fish is a threat -- at all. One of his arguments is that the Japanese eat five to ten times more fish than Americans, and if there's any affect on cognitive development, we'd be able to notice it among that population. "Now I ask you," he asks, "are their kids woefully inadequate in math and science and cognitive abilites, or are their children out-performing ours in math and science?"*

He later added that, according to his research, mercury in fish actually increases childrens' abilities to play piano and violin!

*he actually did say this.

more moss

2006-01-19T16:17:00.000+01:00

Oh my GOD today was BEAUTIFUL. We had sun! Real sun! The weather was so nice and pretty and warm.

So, I took a walk. The first thing I noticed was a tree covered in moss (and lichen?) The Jura is basically coated in moss - it's not at all unusual to see three or four kinds growing on a stone, a wall, in the sidewalk. Then there's the ferns sprouting everywhere... I think that it must help having so much fog -- the air is much damper, encouraging growth everywhere.

Here's the tree:

And here's the moss:

I'm quite relieved to see that those photos turned out nicely. I have suspicions that my camera has begun a slow descent, as the battery hardly holds a charge and the focus gets all confused.

See the horses?

I listened to Wilco's Yankee Hotel EP on the walk. You should too -- it's really good. How pleasant it is to find that music is even better after a few years.

This evening I'm going to a kid's house for dinner. I have to keep reminding myself of this (7 o'clock!) because otherwise I'll forget. Thanks, dad, for passing on a completely useless short-term memory to me.

How 'bout you have a look at me punching you.

2006-01-18T21:32:00.000+01:00

I'm still working on getting all of my paperwork-n-stuff in order. Isn't it ridiculous that this STILL isn't done? I've been here for 4 months! I'm more than halfway finished with my contract!

Anyway, the priority now is to get my social security number, then register for health insurance. That's the only reason, really - just so I'm part of the health care system. I'd like to do this for two reasons:
1. Just to be part of a system like this will tickle my little socialist heart pink. -er.
2. Might as well get everything checked out, since it's Free! and I'll probably have only Major Catastophe insurance when I get back home.

In a way, doing all this sort of makes me hope for:
1. An actual accident.
Just to know that I got my money's worth. (Like, 1050 euros worth (150 euro deducted over 7 months).)

Oh, the point of telling you all of this is that I went to the office twice today between classes. Wednesday is my (relatively) busy day, so I didn't have a large stretch of time to devote to waiting in the office. Of course, I didn't actually get to go in a drop off all of my documents. There was always somebody ahead of me; we waited 20 minutes just for the first person to go out; then I'd wait another 15 minutes while that next person was in the office; then it was time to go to class. I guess I'll have to try again tomorrow morning. Big fucking surprise. The second time I went in, I was walking towards the wall to look at the picture, and the lady waiting gave me this pointed, "Ah-hem!" like I was just going to sneak by her and barge into the office without waiting my turn. Back off, toots, I says.

I'm downloading the new Built to Spill album right now, so I can't post any pictures. I'm definitely not going to complain about how slow my wireless connection is, but let me tell you: it's very slow.
Apparently, it's like a little game for the boys to try to flirt with me. A gross game. In one class today, I asked the kids if anyone wanted to share anything. A boy raised his hand and said, "You have look very sexy!" This was a challenge to the others, so later in that opening discussion time, another kid told me, "My girlfriend is going away to another city for school this weekend." Me: "Oh, does that make you sad?" Him: "No! I am happy so that now you can be my girlfriend!" Me: "I'm not your type, kid."
I'm on a mission to send everyone I know a picture of an octopus playing the drumset. If you don't get one from me, that means I don't have your address. Sorry. Oh, and it's the same picture, but sometimes I make it better than others. You can make little trading cards and set up swap meets.
To anyone close to a yarn store: I'm trying to get a copy of the pattern for "Lace Leaf Shawl" distributed by Fiber Trends. I'd buy it online, but I don't want to pay more for shipping a dumb piece of paper as I would for the pattern itself. I'll totally pay you back if you get it and send it to me -- I just can't bring myself to shell out 13 bucks for a 5 dollar pattern. Thanks!

Hmm, maybe there'll be something better tomorrow. Good day, sir.

That's Madame Petite to you.

2006-01-17T13:02:00.000+01:00

The infinite paperwork continues. Today I talked to the secretary at the school about getting my social security number. I also have to drop of a bunch of documents at the mayor's office because...uh, they asked me. Just so they know exactly whom to round up when the nationalist party takes over, I guess.
I definitely wasn't looking forward to it, since it involves talking about official stuff with people (difficult to understand) and making many copies (difficult to keep straight). Well, I did it, as much as I could, and it wasn't bad. Tomorrow, I'm going to drop off everything to get my social security number, then drop off everything at the Mayor's office. I have to go back there, once I get my SS#, as they want a copy of that as well, but I want to get as much of this stuff out of my hands as I can.

The best part about this morning was that, when I went to the see the secretary, I understood EVERY WORD. We CONVERSED. This is a very big deal. There's been a sort of shift lately -- the language continues to get easier for me to speak and understand. More importantly, I've gone from being the "amusing foreigner" to the "charming foreigner." In the last week alone, the following things have happened:

1. The woman who made the photocopies for me said that I have a pretty accent.
2. One of my students, when talking on the street, repeated the way I say "vendredi" (friday). I asked him what was so funny, and he said, "Nothing! I just think it's nice how you say that. British and American accents are so cute."

Plus, I found out that the students do, in fact, like me, from this embarassing moment: I was walking to class, and passed by a group of my older students on the street. I said hello, and they said hello back. One of the boys said, "Wait! Now, one, two, three!" They all said hello at the same time. From the back, I heard one of the boys saying, "Bonjour, petite." While this is not a rude thing to say, it's definitely not something you'd say to a teacher, as it's the equivalent of saying, "Hi cutie" or "Hi sweetie." I immediately demanded, "Who said that?!?" and they all laughed.
Punks.

Weather: still crappy, in case you were wondering.

Pictures: Frosty moss!

frosty mosty. fross moss.

D2: dijon-ier

2006-01-16T14:22:00.000+01:00

I went to Dijon for the second time on saturday. The last few weeks haven't been the best here, honestly. The weather has sucked, as it undoubtedly sucks nearly everywhere in the Northern Hemisphere. Here, though, it's been foggy. Excuse me, I mean FOGGY. This is how I learned that the french say "it's like pea soup!" too. Well, do we really say that? Perhaps I think it's part of the American vernacular just because it's mentioned in the stop-motion animated version of Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer.
Naturally, it's cold here, as well. The temperature is similar to the chicago area. Chicago has the wind (ugh), but the fog does a number, too. The fog makes the cold more liquid and icy, sliding underneath your hat, down your sleeves. You still feel like your eyes might freeze and fall out of their sockets, but perhaps slightly more slowly.

Ok. Sorry. Nothing's more dull than complaining about the weather. I'll stop.

(Similarly, Tim, expect a long treatise on why Two Weeks' Notice is the worst movie I've ever seen, in your next letter.)

Returning to my original point, I went to Dijon. During the week, I called Catherine and suggested that we meet there for the day. It's only about an hour-and-a-half trip for me, which is short enough for a day trip. Actually, it's only an hour of travel time, but there's always a half-hour wait at the transferring train station. We both arrived at 9:30, and lucky us, it was a beautiful, clear day.

Dijon is a very, very pretty city. It's a pretty weathy area, which you can sense simply from the number of places to go spend all of your money. The center of the city is a pedestrian shopping area. Obviously, there's trade-offs living in any country; similarly, some places really do things better. For example, America has Netflix. This truly is an amazing thing and, frankly, it will be years before other countries catch up. On the other hand, France (and many other places in Europe) has pedestrianized city centers. Oh, and universal health care. And free public unversities.

Part of the reason health problems like obesity and heart disease is less of a problem here is because people go out and walk around more often. In the country, it's very common for me to see whole families or elderly couples spending the afternoon walking. Hell, I spend the afternoon walking. There's a lot of clearly marked trails, which are very easy to access. In the cities, the cities (so far, I've seen it in Montpellier, Dijon, Lyon, Montbeliard, Belfort, and Besancon) have large areas with no cars. This also means large outdoor markets, sidewalk seating at cafes, space for the christmas markets or carousels, etc. Additionally, many of these cities are built on rivers, which means that they also have long riverwalks. It just makes it easier for people to be outside, walk around; to spend their free time outside, interacting with other people.

It was nearly as busy on saturday, a cold day in January, as it was when I went on a beautiful warm fall day in early October. Part of the reason why it was so busy is the sales; however, the sales in Dijon mean that you can get a chandlier for 300 euro instead of 500. A good deal, yes, but only for those who are currently in the chandlier market. Or antique couch market. Or the fur coat market. I often don't find myself in any of these markets.

We still had a wonderful day walking around the city. We even treated ourselves and got a real lunch. Oh, AND we went to the cafe to get hot chocolate. It was as good as I had hoped. We spent the day window shopping and seeing the city. It's a town of many different architectural styles and lots of adorable storefronts.

This is the large cathedral in town. It's got a whole lot of little men and gargoyles sticking out:

Yesterday was even nicer outside. Like last sunday, it was clear and warm. Like spring. I'm convinced this is just to taunt us, as today we've returned to the crappy weather. There was no reason to be outside, so I went to the grocery store in the morning, then spent the rest of the day inside. I've been working on a pair of socks for a friend who is a guy (one of you reading this, most likely) and it's made me come to this conclusion: we should resume the practice of binding feet. There's really no reason that peoples' feet should be this long.

Finally, a happy MLK day to all of you. If there's a special on public radio today in honor of the good doctor, I recommend listening to it. It hasn't failed to fascinate and humble me for the last several years.

2006-01-13T22:45:00.000+01:00

You know that I have a soft spot in my heart for radio. Really, by 'soft spot' I mean 'gaping open cavern.' I love public radio. To the max.
This whole evening, I've been listening to Sound Portraits pieces online. Have you been lacking depression in your life? If so, head on over there, so listen to stories about lobotomies, the ghetto, or the death penalty! It'll cure what ails ya!

From the MY LIFE files:
Have been markedly boring. I've been playing the same game with ALL of my classes for the last two weeks. Have been working out to the TaeBo video that I got over christmas (one must do what one must do, n'est ce pas?). Have been eating butternut squash soup. Thought about need to tweeze eyebrows.

From the TOMORROW files:
Going to Dijon. Expect similar pictures from last time, but shittier light. Why am I going?
1. Get the hell out of Dodge.
2. See Catherine.
3. Soldes, obvs... what - you don't speak french? Well, let me explain. It's the bi-annual national sale in France. This is not required by law, but nearly every store has sales. Good sales, too - like shoes which are 50% off. Frankly, I'm saving the little money I have for a to-die-for pair of shoes in Paris, which I will hopefully pick up later this month. It's always nice to accompany a friend who needs to be talked out of Cute Pair o Shoes #349. All in a days' work.

Preface to the Two-day Anniversary Edition of Tim Fawkes' entry entitled "Tim's Top One Album of 2005."

2006-01-12T10:47:00.000+01:00

I wrote this for the Second (day) anniversary printing of Tim Fawkes's landmark essay from 2006, reviewing Andrew Bird's album, "The Mysterious Production of Eggs." If you haven't read it yet, I recommend doing so first.

Tim introduced me to this album back in aught-5. Oh yes, we were heady young fools then, but Tim was always the most visionary amongst us. He put on the album - beautiful! but not too sappy, the beat keeps moving! Then, he pulled out the booklet by Jay Ryan, which made me kind of stop listening to the music. Sorry. Seriously, you should check out the booklet. Jay Ryan is very well known, in my opinion, in Chicago. I’m not sure if he has much larger exposure, but I feel confident that he will. His work captures a perfect balance of art and cute, motion and weight. And they’re silk screens!

Tim, being the kind and generous soul that he unfailingly is, promptly copied the music album for me. Like many great albums, this one waited patiently for months inside my small white poddy. In Tim's classic treatise on Bird, he mentions that "Skin Is, My" first caught his attention. For me, it was "Fake Palindromes." This song is so good and so catchy, it makes it easy to ignore all of the other songs on the album. It begins with a bollywood-esque wailing melody of violin and tambourine. From there, like “Skin Is, My” (and like most of the other songs), it grows and changes, sampling a bit from rock, folk, anything, but never entirely abandoning the original tone set by those catchy violins. Another big plus is the phrase “Monsters will walk the earth.” As Tim mentioned, even if you’re not a lyrics person – which I’m generally not – these will catch your attention.

Overall, “The Mysterious Production of Eggs” suffers challenges that many good albums do – namely, the required time and patience to grow and open up to the listener. This is not to say that the new listener can’t appreciate the album; however, in order to understand what makes it so good, and in order to fully etch it into the brain, multiple whole-album listenings are required. Without them, it would be too easy to classify this album as “really pretty” or “kind of slow.” After properly ageing, “too pretty” becomes “rich instrumentation”; “kind of slow” becomes “cohesively developed.” This is not an album, in my opinion, to put on, skip to a few songs, then scroll ahead to “My Hump.” As trite as this sounds, listening to “Eggs” is like Bird reading you a story. You need to get tucked into bed, be cozy and ready to listen to Bird spin his yarns in words and music. It’s not a concept album, by any means, but it’s an album whose growth and evolution overall mirrors that of each song. I’d recommend listening to it a few times when you’re alone for the evening. Then it will come to you.

Moroccas, too? Damn.

2006-01-12T00:01:00.000+01:00

I keep forgetting to take my camera outside with me, so I haven't taken many pictures. There's one small series I've been doing, but I should keep working on it until next week - before that it will be even less than the marginally-interesting status that I hope to achieve.

Therefore, behold! Pictures my brother sent me from San Francisco!

Hey people familiar with the bay area in the summer: you know how it's all cold and foggy, and it's like, 'what kind of summer weather is this?' Make it colder. Replace 'summer' with 'winter.' Now you know what it's like to live here right now.

After my classes finished today, Bernard took me home with him for lunch. Guess what I found out -- the fog is only for my elevation. While I haven't been able to see the houses across the street for three days, it's sunny and clear just 200 meters up, on the plateau. What a nasty trick.
I ended up spending the whole day with Bernard and Pauline. It wasn't planned; I think they're just getting used to having me around. We had lunch, then drove over to see some property in a nearby town that they're considering buying. Before going back home, we stopped at Geiant. What kind of store is Geiant? GIANT! (Ha!). No, seriously. It's like a super target. But bigger! Really! They have a dry cleaners in the front! I know I've only been here for three (and-a-half) months, but one becomes accustomed to the scale and norms of a country rather quickly. I nearly had a gripper when I walked into a florescent-lit cavern big enough to have its own gravitational pull.* Electronics, a cafeteria, twenty gajillion cash registers, clothes pulled off the hanger, sales bins, more cereal than I remembered is possible, excessiveness! Wooooooooo!
I bought dish towels, pink. Only 2.50 euro. I'm rather proud of my purchase, especially because they will match My Little Kitchenaid.

I did a google image search for "octopus playing drums" and got this picture:

Not exacly what I was looking for, but a satisfying result nonetheless. Maybe I can get an honorable mention in this year's awards?

One final note: thanks for the letter, Tim!
(See what happens when you send me real letters that I can get in the mailbox? Public appreciation!)
(Since I don't want to appear ungrateful, I'll also thank my mom and dad, Brian, Jim, Katie, Mike, great-aunt and -uncle, my grandma Lori, and Rachael, who have all sent me things. Ok....now i feel kind of like a jerk. I still do like to get things in the mail, though.)

*Quick quiz, pizznuff players! What other mythical large entity also has it's own gravitational pull? You might need to check the book for that one...
And, uh, don't leave the answer in my comments, please.

2006-01-10T10:29:00.000+01:00

I've often wondered what would make my life complete. Then I found this. Now I know.

The person who makes these is Erica Weiner. If you like jewelery, I recommend looking. I especially like the bugs and twigs.

Now more first-world than ever!

2006-01-09T11:18:00.000+01:00

Apparently The Jura was tired of crappy, foggy weather, too, because we seemed to have skipped past the last three months of winter and started on Spring. The last two days have been beautiful and warm. I took a three hour walk yesterday wearing only a sweatshirt.

Well, pants and all that other stuff, too. But just a sweatshirt and no coat! Or scarf!

This morning, we even had a pretty sunrise, just like the good old days of two months ago.

While I'm sorry for those indigenous people in northern Canada, who are losing their native homes because of global warming and all that, this weather is pretty nice! I say, Damn the Kyoto, full steam ahead!

I don't have much to share because I haven't been doing much. Period. This is like, the fantasy life I've been wanting for the last three years when I was working full-time and going to classes most evenings. But now that I have it....yo, there is NOT MUCH TO DO. Last night, I replaced my iTunes folder with the music from my iPod. Why? Because I felt like making my life complicated AND I can make CDs for people of the new music I've gotten from other people's computers! Today I'm going to package up everyone's overdue christmas gifts and knit and...uh, I guess go buy some more blank CDs....and, yeah, that's it. I'd really like to take some day trips, but everything is closed on Sundays and Mondays.

Don't hate me because I live an idle life. Yes, I do appreciate it. I would give anything for a decent movie theater or a yoga studio, though.

Bow down!

2006-01-08T01:59:00.000+01:00

Today is Epiphany! Epiphninous Epiphany to you all!

I began the day with several rousing hours of coffee-drinking and knitting. Then, to fight the Ass-Expansion of '06.... well, my ass never gets big- it's more my hips, so in order to fight the Great Hip Widening, I took a walk. I really didn't want to, as it was cold and foggy. Was? Pfft. Is. It is always cold and foggy during the winter here, as far as I can tell. There's a special quality to the fog where it seeps in under your clothes and makes you feel extra cold. Naturally, I didn't want to go outside, but I did.

It looks kind of sunset-y here, right? It was 3:30.

Luckily, too, as I saw the first patch of blue sky that's been around for weeks. See it?

This evening, I went to dinner at the Houvilles to celebrate Epiphany. What, you infidels don't know what epiphany is? Well, me neither!* But it's a holiday where you eat stuff!

At the table with the Houvilles and another family. I know them at "Patrick's Family" because I can only reliably remember the name of Patrick. They used to be the Houville's neighbors in Menetru, now they live, like 5 miles away. Patrick is a cooking teacher at school. They're an enormously delightful family.

Here's what you do on holidays in france: eat.

Oh, and talk.

But what's special to Epiphany is that you also eat galette du roi, or, king's cake. Judging from the picture below, it's an extremely somber event.

Ha ha! Not really! In fact, it's an event that required plenty of sparkling wine AND children yelling things from under the table. The tradition is that a small ceramic king is baked into the galette, which is a cake made with extreme quantities of butter and almond paste and deliciousness. At the table, the youngest child goes under the table while someone cuts the cake. The kid says whom each piece is for. Then, we eat the cake. Whomever finds the little king in their piece gets the crown, and is king for the evening.

Guess what ............................ I WON! Well, this didn't really involve skill - more, the kindness of Patrick's heart, as I saw him switch pieces so that I'd get the king-baked cake. Don't get all riled up, though, I was merely a figurehead for the evening and posessed no real power. Believe me, I tried to double our fleets in the eastern oceans but nary a vessel took to sea.

There's pictures of me wearing me [entirely impotent] crown. We'll just have to wait for Bernard to email them to me. I hope you're in this for the long haul.

*Actually, it's the day that the three kings came to visit lil' baby jesus; hence the king's cake.

That chick's wearing a big fur hat, too.

2006-01-05T20:15:00.000+01:00

The worst song I've ever heard:
"We be Burnin'," by Sean Paul.

Would you like to hear the song and judge for yourself? Go to Mr. Paul's own website (song will load automatically) or to the eponymous site -- you can download the video there, too. The video makes 10 gajillion times worse. It begins with an EnVogue style dance in the desert, then cuts to Sean himself showcasing his blackhole of dancing skills, with some chick in hotpants dancing in front of a monster truck with FLAMES shooting out the exhaust pipes. You know I'm not making this up, either.

Just be thankful that you don't live in France, where this song's popularity is topped only by Madonna's new single (still!).

Shoutout to Tim, who, I'm told, on TV directing the UT Marching Band during the Rose Bowl. Three times! All of those hours spent at band practice have been worth it.

Nice to meat ya!

2006-01-04T20:34:00.000+01:00

1. I'm official and legal and all that. Today I picked up my carte de sejour with TWO unexpected bonuses!: my work permit, which I didn't know I needed, and my rail discount pass, which fell out of my pocket and some kind soul turned into the mayor's office.

Of course, I already bought my replacement, since I needed it to scam SNCF and get my brother a discount, too. This isn't too far off from the situation with my cell phone. Remember how I said I thought it fell out in that guy's car? And how I saw him and asked him to look in his car? Well, it was in his car. Under the seat. He found it on monday.

Anybody need a french cell phone?

2. I stopped eating meat when I was.... uh, 19? It was a gradual process, where I ate less and less, at the same time meeting more vegetarians. Eventually, it felt right to stop, so I did. I'm not a huge animal-rights activist, but I'd be lying if I said that the conditions in which animals are raised don't disgust me. The only way to explain this choice is that it feels better to me -- healthfully, environmentally, ethically, and, dare I say it, karmically. I learned how to cook (well) after I stopped eating meat, so I don't really know how to prepare it, nor does it ever occur to me.
Before I arrived in France, I knew that being vegetarian would be a challenge. It is. I also knew that it would be best for me to follow my instinct in each individual situation. I have, and it's meant that I've eaten meat a few times. This may not seem like a big deal for you, but being vegetarian was (is!) important to me, and I feel ... god, I don't even know how to explain it ... like I've invalidated my last five years without meat.

I'm not tormented, though, and I feel good about my decision. The decision, by the way, was to continue choosing and preparing food for myself as normal (or, vegetarian. This includes at restaurants, too.) and to eat anything given to me at someone's home. Eating meat is still not entirely natural to me, and god knows it does a number on my digestive system the next day. Luckily, the times I've eaten it are: 1. rare and 2. of the highest quality. Food is an extremely important part of French life, and if I didn't experience it, I would be missing out. The meat that I've eaten is not the average shake-and-bake; it's wild pork terrine, homemade foie gras, duck confit, oysters, duck liver, fish freshly caught in the south of France, and a few little bits of ham in tartiflette. The funny thing is, I've never eaten duck OR liver, and here it is, three times in 4 months. For the most part, it's a few bites of each and no more.

It may seem like I'm justifying this to you, like I'm covering my vegetarian-cred. I'm not, though. Like I said, I feel comfortable with my decisions. I just thought that you'd be interested...especially Mike, who has been trying to get me to eat bacon for, what? three years now?

3. Do you have any recommendations for a really good song? I'm doing something with a few classes where two kids bring in music each class, and I'd like to share something as well. My problem isn't that I don't know enough good songs; it's that I simply can't choose any. My first instinct was "Ziggy Stardust!" then "Jocko Homo!" then "Jesus, Etc.!" but.... I'm not sure if these are the best choices. I want something an average 20-year-old french kid can enjoy. Any ideas?

4. Do you listen to Radio DavidByrne? You should. He's quite the looker, but that's not quite the point. Last month was classic country. This month it's country since the 60's. Before, he had a playlist of all Missy Elliot... You can listen on his website or on iTunes, under Radio, then Eclectic, then Radio DavidByrne. This list includes the song "Red Dirt Girl, " which is one of my absolute favorites after hearing it for the first time in Cumberland Gap, Tennessee. I was with a group of students at a otherwise-local open mic night at the one restaurant in town. Someone sang that song, which is one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard. Someone also sang a song they wrote in honor of Dale Earnhardt.

Speaking of Davie, I had a dream a few nights ago that I was visiting someone in New York and we went to a party. I was talking to this friend and some other guy when "Artists Only" came on. I expressed shock that this was getting play, then said how much buying "More Songs About Buildings and Food" improved my life. This other guy said, "Well, this isn't the only one. 'The Book I Read' is, like, really popular right now."

Two other dream fragments :
- fell asleep with the phrase, "My name etched in with Royal icing."
- woke up with the phrase, "puppy ragnarock."

I'm pretty bummed that I don't remember the backstory for either.

5. These pictures were taken in the last days of December. It snowed for 3 days; was bitter cold. Then the rain came. It's not as pretty now.
This is a small chateau, from my best estimates. It's located in Vaux-sur-Poligny, a small hamlet a mile outside of Poligny.

I few things I hope I never have to do:

2006-01-04T15:25:00.000+01:00

- have my appendix taken out.

- serve on jury duty

- mercy-kill a small mammal

I guess that's it.

Sarinu rowaiaru

2006-01-03T12:00:00.000+01:00

On Christmas Eve, we took an afternoon trip to Saline Royale, the site of a "ideal" society built for a salt-mining community. The architect, Claude-Nicolas Ledoux, was a visionary, totally ahead of his time, and more or less a mad genuis.

The complex was built in 1775, actually inhabited for a while, and is now classified as a UNESCO World Hertiage site.

Buildings inside:

He was really big on having the housing divided up for different workers. While Saline Royle has identical housing, other projects were more bizarre -- like, a barrel-shaped building for the barrel makers, etc.

Interesting details:

Entrance to the community:

one for the resume

2006-01-02T16:48:00.000+01:00

Welcome to day 3 of constant rain. I had a dream last night that I woke up at 4:30 and I felt so frustrated that the day had been wasted. I can't say I feel like I'm wasting my days, but there certainly isn't much to do around here. I also had a dream that I was making pants out of suit material -- I think I got the fabric from old sportcoats -- and sewing big heart patches on for pockets.

With that, today's project was to learn how to crochet. Brian gave me a book for christmas, and my mom brought her old hooks. This is what the afternoon's efforts gave me:

So small! The second I finished, I began more. My skills definitely are at "beginner" level -- as in, I "began" today, but the whole process feels very logical and intuitive. Mostly, I read about how to do the basic single crochet stitch, then figured it out from there.

You can't exactly see it, but this little guy was croched in the round, giving him a very three-dimensional body. If I had some stuffing, he'd be a regular old stuffed toy.

Here's another town we visited on the christmas holiday:

Baume-les-Messieurs is a village of 200 people, nestled into an ancient reculee, or, small canyon.

It's classified as one of the most beautiful villages in France...Chateau-Chalon is similarly classified.

There is an heavy sense of history there. It's old, old, old.

2005

2006-01-01T04:28:00.000+01:00

in all its trashy, fabulous glory:

breaking the law

2005-12-31T11:42:00.000+01:00

My Visa expired on December 14th, which makes me an illegal alien. As if this weren't thrilling enough, I technically can't re-enter France once I've left. So guess what we did? Drove to Swizterland! OH YEAH!

Well, we drove through Swizterland -- but that's four border crossings in one day, baby! Of course, I act all nonplussed, but I was actually nervous that they'd check my passport and I'd have a genuine problem to deal with. In hindsight, I'm all cool and blase -- in reality, I can be rather uptight and a goody-two-shoes.

Anyway, they didn't even stop our car when we crossed the border. Hell, the two guards didn't even stop their conversation as we drove by. I think one may have turned his head slightly to nod us through. We drove through Geneva, stopping long enough to appreciate how insanely difficult it is to find a parking spot in the city and get lunch. Unpleasantly crowded and chaoitic -- these people seriously need to learn how to queue up.

We were shortly back in France, barreling straight towards these here big rocks:

More pictures from the drive towards the Alps:

We arrived in Chamonix in the afternoon. Chamonix is a standard cute-chic ski town, surrounded by jaw-droppingly beautiful mountains.

From town, we took the uh....telepherique.... gondola! yes! We took the gondola up to Aiguille du Midi, which is a pointy little spike, 3,800 meters (12,600 feet -- that's nearly TWO AND A HALF MILES) above sea level.

Aiguille du Midi. I didn't take this picture, obviously.

Now, I don't spend much time at a high elevation, but this was noticably difficult for my body. The air up there is thin. The effort of breathing alone made me out of breath. But just LOOK at the view. It was impeccably clear up there.

Mont Blanc (4807 m) -- the highest mountain in western Europe*.

That's me! I really was there!

Ar! My impenetrable mountain fortress!

*Looking at the list of highest mountains in the world makes it painfully clear how little I know about world geography. For example, there is a mountain 5,754 high called Citlaltepetl in Mexico. That's nearly 1000 meters higher than Mont Blanc! There's mountains in Mexico? Not only that, but really big mountains? Where? How do I not know this?

For the record:

2005-12-31T10:27:00.000+01:00

-I left the house two times yesterday. Once to walk my brother to the train station. Once to buy a package of my most favorite vanilla soy yogurt and a bottle of Cremant du Jura (Jura sparkling wine...for NYE tomorrow, duh.) I did NOT do any laundry -- if I did all of my chores at once, how else would I schedule the rest of my vacation?
I'm a sort of philanthropist for my future self, see.

-While I was verbally invited to join some BTS kids for their New Years Eve party, I do not know where this party is, nor do they have a way of contacting me (since I lost my phone, blah blah blah). Luckily, I got a call from the Houvilles, inviting me over. They continue to be especially nice people.

- I got a call from another English teacher whom I rather like, but am perpetually confused by. Well, no so much "confused" as "driven to pity." She's an awfully good teacher, entirely fluent in English and German -- I only know this from ocassionally stopping by her class, otherwise I don't work with her or take any of her classes. Her husband died 5 years ago, a fact you'd quickly learn from both her mourning dress (which she wears Every Single Day) and that she'd tell you, several times, in any conversation. She had mentioned before the holiday that she'd like to have me over, so, essentially, this was a call of apology for not inviting me. Last night, she told me about how she had gone to see her (alzhemier's stricken) father on Christmas, then totaled her car on the highway when a deer ran in front of her. We chatted for a bit, and I said, "Well, the most important thing is that you're okay...and I'm very grateful for that."
"Oh, unfortunately, I'm really not okay," she replied, "You see, I've had terrible back problems in the last year, and this shall only make it worse. Also, I lost my mother this year....and my husband a few years ago....all I have left now is my father, who has Alzhemiers..."
All I can offer her is some temporary companionship, which I am glad to do. I wish I could do more, though...

- On a more shallow note, I tried out one of my new exercise videos yesterday. Before I came here, I was a Exercise Person, mainly so that I wouldn't be a Chubby Person. I haven't broken a sweat in the three months since I've been here, which is not normal for me. This video, of course, changed all that. Unfortunately, it'll probably be another three months before I recover from yesterday's work-out... I have a new pilates video and yoga video to try out as well. (Thanks, Josie and Zac!)

- All of the snow that we had melted overnight. There was a terribly violent storm, with all of the rain and wind you'd expect. Now, I just figured out how to properly close my shutters so that they don't bang around in the wind -- apparently, I wasn't the last, because shutters of the room 2 floors above me clanked around all night. Exciting story: I heard said awful noise and was about to open/lean out my window to find out whose shutters were banging about. Right before I unlocked the window, I heard glass shattering, and saw shards fall past my window. That's unpleasant. It would have been far more unpleasant if that glass fell on my noggin, but since it didn't, we'll keep it at a Category 2: 'God, that's really annoying.'

- Giant Squid!

-Smoking Chimp!

- I dyed my hair last night. I've been coloring it red for two years now and, frankly, and not very interested in knowing what drab color my hair is underneath. Luckily, I found the exact same color here in France, so I've been able to keep my "natural" color. So last night, I'm unpacking the box, which has a picture of a little bottle on the front, proclaiming "Color Boosting Technology!" There was no little bottle on the inside, however. As I was coloring my hair, I thought, "Hmm...this doesn't look as red as normal..." and it's not. In fact, my color is now similar to a 2-week old color. This can only lead me to believe that they put half the color in another, smaller, bottle simply to amuse us chimps with squeezing more shit in. Like, one bottle of color? Maybe that will work. But ho boy! Two bottles?! Now my hair will surely glow brighter than the sun that warms us!

Now, legion of fans, if you'll excuse me, I've got laundry to do... Glamorous laundry.

Besancon, Dole

2005-12-30T11:25:00.000+01:00

More day trips with the family...

The Citadel in Besancon:

With goats!

And monkeys!

A church in Dole:

fashionable gorilla

2005-12-30T10:24:00.000+01:00

The first week aside, I suppose this is the most "homesick" I've felt since coming abroad. It's not terrible, though, probably because I've only been here for three months and that I still don't want to leave. Having my family here for Christmas was wonderful, but it felt strange having them leave to go home and staying here. Also, watching I Am Trying to Break Your Heart makes me miss Chicago.
My brother took the train to Paris this morning. After having people around (speaking english!) for the last two weeks, I'm not quite sure what to do with my time. I have to do laundry, but want to finish my coffee first. I'd like to take a walk, but it's unbelieveably cold outside. Whine whine whine. My bet is that I'll put on the bonus disc of IATTBYH
and knit some more.

Speaking of which, look what I finished up last night:

Brian asked me to make him a scarf for Christmas. The yarn I ordered for it arrived last Monday and I've been working on it since. It's still drying, unfortunately, so he couldn't take his NEW, CUSTOM-KNIT scarf home with him.

It's freaking huge. Check out how much bigger it is than the bed. Granted, my brother is also a rather tall lad, so I think it should be a good fit.

Also, bri? Enjoy this -- I don't know if I could ever stand to knit you a sweater, considering your arms alone are at least 10 feet long. Sorry.

I've got a couple of other projects I'm tinking away on, but don't want to pick up now (sock needles are too small, I need to get a measuring tape before I keep working on my sweater, etc.) so I'm starting on a new scarf. An elephant trunk-warmer, to be more accurate.

Arbois

2005-12-29T23:51:00.000+01:00

Hey, look! I took some pictures of buildings!

Unfortunately, I did not take a photo of the most amazing place in Arbois: the chocolate store. Technically, it's a full patissier, but we just picked up some chocolate. This store is recognized as one of the greatest stuff-makers in all of France. Apparently, there's a council that gives out awards for the greatest artisans in everything hand-made -- brick-layers, tailors, chocolate-makers, award-givers, etc.

I came back into town yesterday and it still looked like this, just covered with a foot of snow. We bought more chocolate, too. If you're ever in the area, I'd recommend the tea-flavored ganache truffle. Yum. Also, if you're in the area, be sure to take the bus into Arbois -- the train station is seriously like two miles outside of town. Having to walk there or back is only good for one thing: making people cranky.

Boy, I can't think of anything else to say. My normally-sparkling wit ..... eh, I can't even think of a way to finish that joke. Time for bed.

The House of Fog and More Fog

2005-12-27T23:53:00.000+01:00

Hey, what happened to Christmas and the...other... holidays? Over already? Hmm.

Well, I don't know about you (since you've just never quite satisfied, are you), I had a rather delightful little holiday break. As I mentioned before, my family came to France for the week. Before they came, I was in a bit of a tizzy, faced with unplanned days and an inexcusably messy apartment*. Of course, my plans fell together, I finally got extra matresses to use, my living space cleaned up right nice, etc. In fact, I was downright relaxed when my family came into town.

Oh wait, I wasn't. I was nervous all day that there would be some problem or they'd get lost. In fact, I was so jumpy that I took a fast walk up a steep hill just to burn off some extra energy. That's when I took this picture.

They found their way into town without problems (aside from the first one in the morning, when my brother was waiting at the wrong terminal for two hours...ahem...). Since there's no intercom or doorbell from the outside, I found out they were here when I heard my brother yelling my name outside my window. That's strange to hear when you're used to being the person in town that nobody will be addressing, by name, pronounced correctly.

Anyway, they were here. I don't remember what we did at first, probably walking into town and forcing them to stay awake past 6PM. On...the next day...uh, Monday? Was it really that long ago? We just stayed around town. I took them on my typical walk to Buvilly, which is normally pleasant when the temperature isn't 30 degrees below zero. In this case, I both felt guilty for making my family trudge to some crummy little village just for the sake of walking there, AND worried that I was going to lose a few of the smaller toes.

(the cinema in poligny -- a converted church)

The next day, I directed the family to Lons-le-Saunier, simply for the sake that this is a place I often go. It is, in fact, a sweet little town, but there's really not much going on there. So, we drove up the plateau to overlook Baume-les-Messieurs. And, oh look! Rocks and fog! This pretty much sums up the "seasonal experience" of this region.

In fact, if I write a book about living in the Jura, I think that I'll title it "Rocks and Fog!"
(I thought I had taken a picture from the top of reculee, but I didn't. You can recreate it for yourself by thinking about fog.)

My own sparkling humor aside, we did have a rather nice time driving around on the small roads and even though we couldn't see much, it still looked damn cool. I had planned on driving into town, but the one road down the cliff side was closed, so instead we drove over to Chateau-Chalon.

You know the phrase "6 in one, half-dozen the other?" When speaking about Baume-les-Messieurs and Chateau-Chalon, one could say, "Cute and old in one, old and cute the other." Granted, the drive through the incredibly narrow streets and the finding-of-parking that followed was a bit stressful (for whomever was driving), it was all worth it for views like this:

And this:

Look, old stuff!:

And something cute!:

Fog!:

And Rocks!:

The next day, we went to a few more towns. Unfortunately, looking through the photos I took, I documented exclusively the places we visited and not the staggering amount of really good food that we ate (including fresh pastries every other morning) or how awesome I am at playing Catch Phrase. Plus, if you check back here this week, you'll get a SHOCKING confession with regards to me being a total fucking hypocrite and meat. There. I said it.

*I feel that it's necessary to be honest here: I can be a bit hystrionic when it comes to messiness. It never really bothered me before, but once I graduated college (an moved home for a year, where, I think, my mother has installed dust-sensors and dust-sensing-alarms), I decided that I was finished with my life of mess. Messy life, I cast you off! (I would have said, were I into that sort of grandiose declaration towards inanimate objects and ideas.) Even if you know me well, you might not know that I get a tad bit persnickety when it comes to dirty floors. Meaning, I've been reduced to tears. More than once. That's why it's so freaking awesome to live with me. I cry over dirty floors.
But, on the other hand, I bake fucking delicious cakes. The choice is yours.

Little Poligny, all dressed up for Christmas

2005-12-24T18:20:00.000+01:00

Bonnes Fetes to you, too.

2005-12-22T23:20:00.000+01:00

My family got here without incident on sunday, and have since been lapping up the cuteness that leaked all over the Jura.
It's been a busy week so far. Here's a few pictures of things we've seen.

Chateau-Chalon:

Christmas lights in Poligny:

The Citadell in Besancon:

Traditional Comtoise roof in Arbois:

Mountains, yo. In Chamonix, from the top of Aguille du Midi. Mont Blanc was a stone throw away, on the other side:

2005-12-17T08:51:00.000+01:00

Now let's see...what shall I do with all of my free, unplanned time today....

Oh, I know. I think I'll freak the hell out because my family is coming, HERE, tomorrow. I've been working away at the planning and preparation for week now, but, well...that doesn't mean shit now.

Especially because it's only NOW that I'm realizing certain things, like:

1. I only have two plates, bowls, forks, spoons, etc. There's four people in my family! I actually had a dream last night where I found two extra of everything under my bed, and I was SO happy because that meant I didn't have to buy more things. Pathetic, huh?

2. Presents ought to be wrapped.

3. "Clean" for me means "I can tolerate the filth I see every day." I'd rather not horrify my family with the shower curtain that I choose to ignore every morning.

4. Those little issues with the boarding situation, the ones I had hoped would be worked out, aren't. Meaning, a few weeks ago, one of my temporary roommates took two chairs from the kitchen to another apartment in my building. Every so often, in the last few weeks, I'd gather my courage and knock on a few doors, looking for my chairs. I can only hope they're in a better place now. Also, I was told that the key for the second room in my suite would be dropped off on Friday (because they had to wash the room), but it wasn't. That means that my brother will be sleeping on the air mattress and I'll be sleeping on the floor, just until we can get to the Houville's to borrow another mattress. The other problem with this is I was relying on the chair inside the other bedroom for the fourth chair, so, you know, the whole family could sit at the table together for a meal.

5. Rug, washcloths, sheets, towels -- these things should be laundered now and then (see #3).

So, I'm feeling a bit under the gun right now. It doesn't make it much better that it's been raining all week, so I haven't been able to go out for a walk since tuesday. There wasn't any time for it, anyway, as I worked 6 extra classes this week --- which, by the way, put me at the same number of hours as the regular teachers here.

But on the bright side? I got another phone, AND I paid 30 euro less for it.

Now, here is a picture unrelated to this post, but I am including simply to make it more interesting.

Ho ho no

2005-12-15T23:36:00.000+01:00

I think we're under attack from an army of small Santas.

Creepy.

In other news...
1. Continuing to sing "The Twelve Days of Christmas." I've done it so many times by myself that I'm actually starting to think that I'm not half bad as a singer. This is the first sign of danger.

2. Didn't get a phone, again. Even though I underwent light torture last Friday night, as the guy mumbled to me that the phones were sold out and would arrive on Wednesday, they did NOT arrive on Wednesday. I was planning on taking the train after my last class to the larger town nearby, but the train wouldn't get there until 7. That's definitely late for a gamble, especially since the last train back to Poligny left 45 minutes later. Not worth the risk.
New plan is to go tomorrow after class, as I am finished earlier in the day, and there are more trains to Lons and back.

3. One of the Houville boys just moved into Poligny. He stopped by my apartment, and we had dinner over at his very large (but very cold) apartment. Yeah, who's got friends NOW?

4. Oh, and I went to the Christmas party for the school last night. I had imagined something similar to an event my high school held for the honors English classes, called "British Christmas." We cooked traditional Christmas foods (I brought a roast duck one year!), and had assorted geeky activities, like skits based on the books we'd read in class, a group performing a traditional British period dance, etc. I was in charge of all of the decorations my senior year -- I chose maroon and gold as the color combination. It was a dorkfest of the highest order, to be sure. And MY GOD, I loved it. In fact, I still do love it. In fact, that might be fun to do when I'm a teacher in a high school myself.
Anyway, ahem, this christmas party was not similar at all. No decorations! No foie gras! No buche de noel! It was a couple of crappy bands made up of high school kids, a (admittedly pretty mind-blowing) demonstration from the french boxing group, and a final performance from a "professional" group that did mostly Nirvana covers. These kids went WILD. And I felt OLD. I went because...well, why not go? It was worth it, as a bunch of my BTS kids were emceeing the show, which led to multiple shout-outs for being the American in the house. I still felt damn old, though.

5. Isn't this a nice color combination?

It's my sweater, shirt cuff, watch band.

My large penguin guards shall protect me

2005-12-13T11:31:00.000+01:00

So, this weekend, in case you've forgotten (because I nearly have), I went up to Strasbourg with Catherine. What I didn't mention was that on the way back, there are limited trains and we had already bought a return ticket. So, we took the train in the evening that didn't require reservations. Except it did. And it didn't. Basically, most people had reservations, and those that didn't, stood. So we stood for two hours on the train. Catherine kept suggesting that we go sit in first class, but I got all chickenshit about it, so we stayed in the noisy area between the cars. In the end, it wouldn't have mattered, since nobody came to collect tickets.

Anyway, it was too late for me to travel another 2 hours back down to Poligny, so I just stayed overnight with Catherine. On Monday, we did some shopping in town and poked around the Christmas Market. None of the stalls of the market were open before lunch, so we had to entertain ourselves with the strange choice of animatronics.

That moose fell over.

You'll have to click on this picture, in order to get the full effect of the photo. I really do look like my ice palace was moved to this strange city, leaving me to peer out, confused and scared of the world around me.

Oh, and I had the best lunch EVER. A belgian waffle, smothered in Nutella, dusted with powdered sugar.

(That shot's for you, mike)

Tonight is the school's Christmas party. I may even put on a skirt for the occasion. I am, however, far more excited about the idea of singing The Twelve Days of Christmas approximately 35 more times in the next three days. Perhaps you think that I'm not the best singer in the world, but let me tell you -- these kids applaud me whenever I sing to them in class. Or maybe they just like my awesome moves.