I learned:
> It is in fact possible to make it to campus, back home, change and sort of eat, and make it back to campus in under one and a half hours.
>I am, in fact, very out of shape.
>I am all in favor of learning jazz if it means I get to dance.
>My dance teacher does not believe in easing us back in after the summer hiatus.
>The people in charge of the history discussion section registration are very nice and helpful, even if they are telling me that I can't register for what/when I want.
>The guys in the history department here seem to be much more attractive than all the ones back home. (No offense intended...just most of us history majors tend to be fairly thrown together and harried looking)
>Getting a package from home (even if it was expected and full of necessary things like rain coats, sweaters, and warm socks) is awesome!
>If I borrow a pair of dance pants mine will show up the second I return from class. In the expected box.
>I love having a library card.
>The French really like comic books. (Bandes Dessines or BDs)
> I am really sadly out of shape.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Biking on an island! (and a bit of a history lesson in nerding)
So, I should probably just stop apologizing for the utter lack of updates...but most of you know me...and will realize that this sporadic-ness will probably be the mainstay. I'm trying to be good...but it doesn't always work. Sorry.
ANYWAY.
We last left our "heroine" in Poitiers! (Or perhaps..."wanderer," or "bemused person of small stature," or "Lucy-beast," whichever you prefer. It all boils down to me.) Well, I'm still there. I survived the week intensive, and then had a week off...and some of my classes started today. Yes, I said some. Things do not work the same here...all of the different departments start at different times...and as such put out their timetables at different times. I start one batch of classes today, but won't actually know my final schedule for another...week...at minimum. I kid you not. History classes start next week, and they are still working on their time tables. One of my friends, the lovely Caroline, wants to take Philosophy classes, which also still have no times, but they may have actually started today. Confused? Frustrated? No. Just leave it all at the door. Because even if you are, they don't care.
So, something cheerful? Maybe?
Yesterday! (Sunday) I went to an island called l'Isle de Ré, it's about an hour drive from Poitiers, and oh my goodness cute as can be. My host dad (Patrick) and mom (Sabine) took me. We arrived, drove to one of the little towns on this small island and wandered around for a bit. It was really nice. The big thing to do is to rent bikes. So we did. I biked 20 plus kilometers. Yes, be impressed. It was a gorgeous day, sunny and slightly breezy especially when biking along the water. The island is famous for a special kind of salt that it makes, and we biked along past several of the salt fields (picture a rice paddy, slightly smaller, dingier water, sort of reddish plants sporadically along some of it...and piles of raked salt on the other). They also use the salt to make caramels. Which we had some of. -insert blissful smile here-
We biked to the beach and ate lunch on the sand, then to a famous church on the island. It is a fairly standard church aside from a notably two-toned spire...black and white. It was used as a sort of lighthouse for ships trying to find the little island.
Then we biked back to town...13 kilometers on an already very sore rear-end...bit rough. But on arrive back in St. Martine we had local made ice cream. More flavors than you can shake a stick at, and it is damn good ice cream! Even by west coast I-was-brought-up-on-Tillamook-and-Umpqua standards. I had Caramel (specialty! Think of the salt!), Chantilly violette (cream and violets: yummy!), and, as they were out of melon, a mix of guava, grapefruit*, and ylangylang. Was it really awesome? YES.
But, just to prove how nerdy I am, the second best thing about the day (aside from the wind!) was...*drum roll*...A TINTIN STORE. I nearly died.
Tintin, for the tragic and poorly brought up few who don't know, is a comic book character. The author was Belgian, Hergé, but his adventures originated in a French newspaper in the end of the 1920s. 60 years and 24 full adventures later, Tintin had become very much a part of the French literary and cultural world. I've been a fan since accidentally discovering his books in 4th grade. His adventures are still read by children everywhere...and he's big enough to have stores dedicated to him! I didn't buy the sweatshirt...though I was really really really tempted. But, in flipping through a rack of postcards (book covers and particularly hilarious panels) I had a moment of utter joy! They had a card of the cover of "Tintin au Pays des Soviets"!
History of Tintin lesson part two: There are something like 24 full Tintin adventures. I have not read 2 of them...but one doesn't count. There are 3 that are impossible to find in English. Tintin in the Congo (problems with majorly racist themes, nowadays it's hard to find even in French), Tintin in the Land of the Patriots (which shouldn't really count. Hergé was in the planning process of this one when he died. There isn't even a full plot, just some sketches and maybe the first page or two), and Tintin in the Land of the Soviets. NOBODY can find this one. It was Tintins very first adventure, published in the newspaper, I don't even know if he was officially called Tintin at this time...it was later slightly re-worked by Hergé and published in a limited book form...after Tintin had established himself, but before big fame. It is nearly impossible to find unless you are a collector and willing to shell out big bucks. (Did I know all this years ago? Yes. Was it because I read a book on the history of Tintin? Yes. I never pretended I wasn't the biggest nerd of the century. If you are surprised at this...silly you.)
So! I see the postcard with the cover on it. Don't even think twice, but go in and buy it promptly. Sadly I didn't get to explore much inside the shop and Patrick and Sabine were waiting and wanting to move on (sadness! But I will find another one! Or go back...), but! BUT! After paying for my postcard, I turn to leave...and there is a real, live, actually, honest to goodness, copy of the book! It was safely in a display case next to the register. I don't even think it was for sale, there was just a name of someone or some business under it...so maybe I could have bought it, but they weren't sayin' for how much!... but it was there! I've seen one! They exist! It definitly looked collectible, slightly frayed bindings, the works! I was so thrilled!
Will I read this book before I die? Yes. Yes, I will.
Sorry about the nerdy segue. I didn't mean to be rambly or to lecture you on details of which you do not care...but...it's my adventure! I promise there are other wonderful things: I saw a movie, "Le Temps Qu'il Reste" in theatres here (in arabic I think, with French subtitles. Whoo. We all pooled information at the end to make sure we had got the plot right), ate some awesome crêpes, remain awed by the variety of amazing cheeses, am seriously contemplating cutting all my hair off again, still get fizzy feelings of joy when I successfully navigate a conversation in French, went to a jazz club (which was AMAZING), listened to jazz music sung in English by the most adorable French woman ever known to man (short, pudgy, impish smile, big orange flower over one ear, and a green fan that she waved about in an adorable manner), and ate some local specialties that included coagulated blood sausage, something that was described as "pig", some other thing that was green and of an odd consistency, and the French version of Cheesecake, which is not like ours at all...it's fluffy!
Oh yes. I hope this is somewhat interesting? Post with comments will make me more able to go the right direction. Or just comments...(not begging shamelessly at all)
Hugs to you all!
*The word in French is pomplemousse and I really had to work just now to translate it back into English...
ANYWAY.
We last left our "heroine" in Poitiers! (Or perhaps..."wanderer," or "bemused person of small stature," or "Lucy-beast," whichever you prefer. It all boils down to me.) Well, I'm still there. I survived the week intensive, and then had a week off...and some of my classes started today. Yes, I said some. Things do not work the same here...all of the different departments start at different times...and as such put out their timetables at different times. I start one batch of classes today, but won't actually know my final schedule for another...week...at minimum. I kid you not. History classes start next week, and they are still working on their time tables. One of my friends, the lovely Caroline, wants to take Philosophy classes, which also still have no times, but they may have actually started today. Confused? Frustrated? No. Just leave it all at the door. Because even if you are, they don't care.
So, something cheerful? Maybe?
Yesterday! (Sunday) I went to an island called l'Isle de Ré, it's about an hour drive from Poitiers, and oh my goodness cute as can be. My host dad (Patrick) and mom (Sabine) took me. We arrived, drove to one of the little towns on this small island and wandered around for a bit. It was really nice. The big thing to do is to rent bikes. So we did. I biked 20 plus kilometers. Yes, be impressed. It was a gorgeous day, sunny and slightly breezy especially when biking along the water. The island is famous for a special kind of salt that it makes, and we biked along past several of the salt fields (picture a rice paddy, slightly smaller, dingier water, sort of reddish plants sporadically along some of it...and piles of raked salt on the other). They also use the salt to make caramels. Which we had some of. -insert blissful smile here-
We biked to the beach and ate lunch on the sand, then to a famous church on the island. It is a fairly standard church aside from a notably two-toned spire...black and white. It was used as a sort of lighthouse for ships trying to find the little island.
Then we biked back to town...13 kilometers on an already very sore rear-end...bit rough. But on arrive back in St. Martine we had local made ice cream. More flavors than you can shake a stick at, and it is damn good ice cream! Even by west coast I-was-brought-up-on-Tillamook-and-Umpqua standards. I had Caramel (specialty! Think of the salt!), Chantilly violette (cream and violets: yummy!), and, as they were out of melon, a mix of guava, grapefruit*, and ylangylang. Was it really awesome? YES.
But, just to prove how nerdy I am, the second best thing about the day (aside from the wind!) was...*drum roll*...A TINTIN STORE. I nearly died.
Tintin, for the tragic and poorly brought up few who don't know, is a comic book character. The author was Belgian, Hergé, but his adventures originated in a French newspaper in the end of the 1920s. 60 years and 24 full adventures later, Tintin had become very much a part of the French literary and cultural world. I've been a fan since accidentally discovering his books in 4th grade. His adventures are still read by children everywhere...and he's big enough to have stores dedicated to him! I didn't buy the sweatshirt...though I was really really really tempted. But, in flipping through a rack of postcards (book covers and particularly hilarious panels) I had a moment of utter joy! They had a card of the cover of "Tintin au Pays des Soviets"!
History of Tintin lesson part two: There are something like 24 full Tintin adventures. I have not read 2 of them...but one doesn't count. There are 3 that are impossible to find in English. Tintin in the Congo (problems with majorly racist themes, nowadays it's hard to find even in French), Tintin in the Land of the Patriots (which shouldn't really count. Hergé was in the planning process of this one when he died. There isn't even a full plot, just some sketches and maybe the first page or two), and Tintin in the Land of the Soviets. NOBODY can find this one. It was Tintins very first adventure, published in the newspaper, I don't even know if he was officially called Tintin at this time...it was later slightly re-worked by Hergé and published in a limited book form...after Tintin had established himself, but before big fame. It is nearly impossible to find unless you are a collector and willing to shell out big bucks. (Did I know all this years ago? Yes. Was it because I read a book on the history of Tintin? Yes. I never pretended I wasn't the biggest nerd of the century. If you are surprised at this...silly you.)
So! I see the postcard with the cover on it. Don't even think twice, but go in and buy it promptly. Sadly I didn't get to explore much inside the shop and Patrick and Sabine were waiting and wanting to move on (sadness! But I will find another one! Or go back...), but! BUT! After paying for my postcard, I turn to leave...and there is a real, live, actually, honest to goodness, copy of the book! It was safely in a display case next to the register. I don't even think it was for sale, there was just a name of someone or some business under it...so maybe I could have bought it, but they weren't sayin' for how much!... but it was there! I've seen one! They exist! It definitly looked collectible, slightly frayed bindings, the works! I was so thrilled!
Will I read this book before I die? Yes. Yes, I will.
Sorry about the nerdy segue. I didn't mean to be rambly or to lecture you on details of which you do not care...but...it's my adventure! I promise there are other wonderful things: I saw a movie, "Le Temps Qu'il Reste" in theatres here (in arabic I think, with French subtitles. Whoo. We all pooled information at the end to make sure we had got the plot right), ate some awesome crêpes, remain awed by the variety of amazing cheeses, am seriously contemplating cutting all my hair off again, still get fizzy feelings of joy when I successfully navigate a conversation in French, went to a jazz club (which was AMAZING), listened to jazz music sung in English by the most adorable French woman ever known to man (short, pudgy, impish smile, big orange flower over one ear, and a green fan that she waved about in an adorable manner), and ate some local specialties that included coagulated blood sausage, something that was described as "pig", some other thing that was green and of an odd consistency, and the French version of Cheesecake, which is not like ours at all...it's fluffy!
Oh yes. I hope this is somewhat interesting? Post with comments will make me more able to go the right direction. Or just comments...(not begging shamelessly at all)
Hugs to you all!
*The word in French is pomplemousse and I really had to work just now to translate it back into English...
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Paris and flirting
Disclaimer:
This was written my third day in Paris. I came in from a long day out doing site seeing, having just eaten dinner, and ready to crash. The guy behind the hotel counter and I got chatting...then sort of flirting. I came back up to my room and wrote this. I am not very coherent when both tired and surprised. But thought I'd share.
The French, I think, flirt more as a way to make conversation, or tease you...but it still put me all a flutter.
End disclaimer begin the blurb.
Officially REALLY distracted…
Damn. French men. They can flirt! And if I notice it…it’s flirting. What starts out as a normal conversation with the guy behind the desk of my hotel…turns into “you are too young, and too cute” and I “make his heart flutter when I look at him sideways”. I mean. And…yeah. He puts his hand on the counter and gives mine a squeeze, and I just take my hand back, because I still think he’s just teasing, but he leaves his hand out there…thankfully the other guy comes in and I can ask for my key and fleeeeeeeee.
I don’t deal well with being flirted with. Obviously.
But man, they know how to make you feel pretty. Whoa.
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