Europe

The fastest month of my life!

pamelaglosson — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 09:24:00 GMT

I've been known to make people feel incredibly awkward. I hear that all the time. I know this is another one of those times and I made you all feel very awkward because I haven't heard a single response all week. So I'm sorry.

This week back at school is so hectic. Finals and presentations are coming up. And on top of that, I want to 'profite bien' and take advantage of being in France these last few weeks. I want to travel and spend time with Colette and enjoy this beautiful weather. It's hard to do it all when there's so much schoolwork to be done. Next week we have Thursday off of school. You know how I feel about Thursdays! So I'm really excited for it and I'm planning a five-day weekend. I haven't decided where to yet. One last voyage in Europe before coming home in a few weeks.

I've got my plane ticket home now. I don't know if I've already written that. I'll be home May 22^nd. I'm looking forward to being home and being outside and working on the farm. I've got so much to think about after this semester and it will be nice to swim and work and clear my head. It's a conundrum because I want more time to enjoy France but I'm so excited to be coming home, too.

Tonight Colette is finally going to teach me how to cook. She wouldn't do it all semester. She'd tell me not to help and to get out of the kitchen, but finally I convinced her to teach me some things. She's going to teach me ratatouille and rabbit. So these are two recipes I'll bring home and hopefully be able to show all of you (If I'm sucessful...)

Tomorrow Bradie and I are renting a motor bike and going to the coast to Cassis, where there are beautiful sandy beaches surrounded by big white cliffs. Then we're going to camp tomorrow night. We don't know where, yet, but that's part of the adventure. Then Sunday there is a picnic for all the students and their host families, so Bradie and I are coming home early Sunday morning so we can go. It's going to be at Mt. St-Victoire and I'm really looking forward to it. I can't believe that it's so close to the end! After we came back from Spring Break, it's all over! I can't believe it's already the end of April. It feels like April just started a couple of days ago. This is the fastest month of my life. I can't believe the semester is over.

I hope everyone is doing well at home. I can't wait to see you all!

Love

Pam

A Revisto

pamelaglosson — Fri, 11 Apr 2008 01:10:00 GMT

Yesterday our art class was cancelled for the afternoon, so Bradie and I wanted to make the best of the time that would normally be spent in class. We took the bus to Marseille and spent the afternoon walking along the port and then finding a nice place along the water to talk and 'boire une verre' ('drink a glass') The afternoon was so sunny and warm. We wore these light-colored sun dresses and got lots of stares from the black-clad French. And unwelcomed hollars from French males.

We used to think that the male attention in France was flattering. At first we thought they found us attractive. But then we started to realize that it was more of a game to them than anything. In the U.S., I've never had so much attention, but it's not good attention here. They just want to see if they can pick you up, like a little game. For the next gents that approach us, Bradie will be telling him or them that her name is "Pocahontas" and mine will be "Robert".

When it started getting chilly, we decided to go to dinner. She'd never tried Indian food before and I love how she's willing to try anything (yes, eating lots of Indian food in France...I really like it, okay?). She liked it, and it was a fun night. It was a date, actually, because her birthday is coming up next Saturday. Her mom will be here visiting and I'm going to be biking Provence during the Spring Break. In case I can't be there, I wanted to have a special one-on-one celebration with her like she had with me on mine.

I fell asleep so deeply last night. I think after a day of sun I was completely wiped out.

I woke up this morning to rain. It's the first day of Spring Break. People from my school are visiting Europe in every-which-direction. I wanted to do that at first, but then I decided that I wanted to see this region in more depth. I came to the South of France for a reason. There's so much to see in Provence--it has the Alps as well as the Mediterranean, and it has the plains and rivers in between. My teachers have been telling me not to miss the Luberon area at this time of year, so that is one place I know I want to make it to. I also really want to see the big white cliffs and beaches of Cassis. And I have time for exploration and adventure this whole week...or not, if I so choose.

I probably won't have internet access during the break, but if I come across some I will try to update. I hope to have really rich stories when I get back. I have no idea what to expect from this next week!

A revisto!

(Provencal for 'see ya later')

a Villiage in the Valcluse

pamelaglosson — Sun, 6 Apr 2008 13:13:00 GMT

The last school excursion was today. At Isle de la Sorgue there was a huge market that we explored. Our guide had told us about the melon here. There's a well-known chef who makes everything melon, and he's an artist who makes his own paint from melon seeds. One of the stands at the market handed us a sample of the melon and it was so delicious we decided to get some for our picnic. We asked them if they could cut it up for us because we didn't have a knife and wanted to bring it on a picnic, so one of them came over and started chatting with us for a long time before we had to remind him to please cut the melon. Where are you from/Where are you studying/Oh! I live near there actually/Do you go out often? Finally he cut two slices from the melon. "Call me over when you want more" he said. He was trying to get us to stay at the stand! We found someone else to finish cutting it for us and we went to find more picnic items. I kept trying to get away from Bradie, actually, because she had seen this bracelet made out of buttons that she liked and her birthday is coming up. But when I finally used the only thing I could think of: "I'm going to find a bathroom, I'll meet you at the bread stand" she gave me this laughing smile and said "You can't surprise me!". I can't believe she knew.
Our picnic in the park was accompanied by someone who had brought their own karaeoke machine. But besides her lovely voice, the park was beautiful. It was right along the river Sorgue that runs through the town making it Provence's "Venice".
We then rode to Fontaine de Valcluse. Our guide started to show us through town: the cathedral, the column dedicated to Petrarch, the paper factory....but what really interested Bradie and I were the beautiful mountainside that this town was backed up against and the clearest water I'd ever seen that ran through the river in town. Rather than enjoying the paper factory with the rest, we snuck off to the park where lots of families were spending their Sunday afternoon next to the water. It was one of the most beautiful paradises I'd ever seen.

Don't get in the car with just anyone...wait until they pull over first.

pamelaglosson — Sat, 5 Apr 2008 13:11:00 GMT

Today was another one of the most beautiful days since I've been here. I woke up early and went for a run in the park. It smelled so good--very fresh and a little flowery.
I made plans with my friend Kaia from school to paint at Mt. St-Victoire today. Our art teachers are going to Venice next week, and so each of us classmates has to make up the days of class that we won't have. So, Kaia and I decided to go for one long day and pack a lunch, instead of two three-hour sessions of class, and then we wouldn't have to waste time on clean-up and set-up.
So I met her in the market yesterday morning so we could buy some fruits and vegetables and bread for our day out. We have these huge WWII army backpacks (really) in which we keep our palattes and paints and easels, and trying to snake through the little aisles of the market was nearly impossible with those things. I just wanted to get a yellow pepper and an apple and some bread, but when I saw all the fresh fruits, then I wanted kiwis and oranges and bananas and strawberries too. She wanted to get a bottle of wine to have during our picnic, so we bought something mid-range (about 3 euros...wine is so cheap here) and we caught the bus to the mountain.
We set up our art supplies next to a flower field and painted for the day. It was nothing like if Bradie had been there, but she refused to go on account of her frustration with painting. We found that little hidden spot and stayed there until we had to catch the bus back. It was a beautiful day, and I painted in my bathing suit top, enjoying the sunshine and the scenery to the fullest.
But we missed the bus to go back home. There was another woman waiting at the stop, too. And when the bus was a half hour late, she explained to me that she was going to find someone who was headed to Aix to ride with them. She told us if we were going to do the same to make sure we didn't get into the car with just anyone! On that parting advice, Kaia told her we were going to walk back and we began to head back towards town. 17 kilometers. I don't know if her backpack didn't feel just like a piece of bulky furniture strapped to her back like mine did. And I don't know if she noticed how long it took to get here by bus (and that walking is a much longer process). So we started to walk. She said "atleast it's not raining!" all cheerful like and I said "at least we don't have to carry our art backpacks, that would suck!" and the more I thought obout hitchhiking, the more appealing it sounded. I'd never done it before. "How would you feel about hitchhiking?" I asked after twenty minutes of miserable walking silence. I already knew her answer, but I really wanted an adventure. In fact, though, she didn't refuse like I expected her to. But she also made it hard to hitchhike with her not holding out her thumb and with her going down small roads. So I headed us towards the main road to town and started holding out my thumb. No cars would stop. They'd go around us and some of them even seemed to be laughing at us, but maybe that was just my imagination. Finally I saw the car that would stop and I said so to Kaia. "This is the one," I told her, "get ready". It hadn't gotten close enough to start slowing down yet, but it wasn't hard to guess that this lime-green volkswagon van with handpainted designs would give us a ride. And sure enough, they pull off to the side in front of us. "Come on, Kaia, they've stopped for us!" I told her. She seemed confused, and though I'd never hitchiked before, the concept seemed quite simple. A woman jumped out of the passenger seat and helped us in. The van was probably only a little bigger than my sister's car, but it still had a kitchen and a bed. There were bongo drums in the corner and there were pictures all over the walls. "Are these places you've been?" I asked her and she started telling us about them. She said next they were heading to Cassis and would we like to go? If Bradie had been in the van, I would have given her a look and we would have said "Yes" because I already had my bathing suit and because I thought that would be a great spontaneous adventure. But I know Kaia is more cautious, so I said no thank you. She asked if we were painters and wanted to see our paintings. When they let us out in a parking lot near town, I didn't know the etiquette of thanking someone for giving you a ride. You don't give them money, I don't think. So I gave them my fruit from the market-three apples and a couple of oranges.
Bradie, meanwhile was passing the entrance of the parking lot, noticing a woman in a hippie van eating an apple, and that's when I saw her. I ran across the street with Kaia and we all walked together for a while. I had missed spending that day with Bradie, and as school's coming to an end and Spring Break will be interrupting it too, I really want to spend as much time with her as possible.
Later that night she said the same thing when we went out for a glass of wine. She said even when we visit each other at home in Illinois and Colorado it won't be the same because we will be in HER Colorado or MY Illinois, and not in Aix, the place that's a strange familiar friend to us both.

My parents fall victim to Colette's food attacks.

pamelaglosson — Fri, 28 Mar 2008 12:09:00 GMT

I finally took mom to the market this morning. She had fun picking out all the different vegetables and getting to sample cheeses and such. We bought the ingredients for my Spontaneous Ratatouille, and also some salad and some cheese. I had a feeling that we might not be so hungry, though, because at noon we had plans to eat lunch at Colette's (dun dun dunnnnn).
Again, we spend nearly three or four hours there. My parents got so full from lunch, just as I warned them. My dad had to cry out "no!" as she would force more at him.

That night we weren't hungry for dinner, but we had bought so many vegetables, so mom made the ratatouille from the recipe.
Bradie came over for dinner, even though no one was really hungry. She was going to stay the night to come with our family the next day in Nice. The two of us drank 95-cent champagne and decided to go out dancing. It was fun while we were there, but we didn't want to stay out late because we were excited for Nice.

Fumbling French

pamelaglosson — Thu, 27 Mar 2008 12:08:00 GMT

After my full day of class, we took Colette out to dinner as a thank you for all she's done for me. I was so tired that my French was horrible tonight. I felt like a failure. I kept mistranslating things and then wondering if I should go back and correct, which I usually did and it made me feel embarassed on how much I was messing up. The menu was impossible to read even if my French was on that night, because it was so gormet. I tried to ask Colette what some of the things were, but then I couldn't remember what was what. So I blindly ordered for the three of us.
It was up to me to keep up the energy at the table. Sometimes I tried to start up conversations, but then my translations would make them confused and the talking would die down, and I felt like I was bringing everyone's night down. But after dinner, as we walked Colette nearly 50 miles to where she parked her car, I did much better out in the fresh air moving around. They started a conversation about old movie stars and songs and singers and the mood was livelier and funnier. I was noticing that sometimes I could make sure the intentional humor got across by the manner in which I translated a sentence and that was fun to play with, too.

Art and Aperitif

pamelaglosson — Tue, 25 Mar 2008 12:07:00 GMT

Bradie stayed the night last night, and this morning we woke up early and ate breakfast, but my parents slept in. My first class of the day was actually my art critique. It wasn't a class at all, but I tried to use this time to understand the art concepts that are frustrating me. I still don't know exactly what an art critique is, or if I should have been more compliant in order to get a better grade. I wasn't sure how they were graded anyway, and if it is based off the work that I've already done, then why not use this one-on-one time with the teacher to figure out what they're talking about. I told him I understand the abstract concepts. I explained them back to him in my own words and it's true I understand what they are talking about, but just can't make that translation into the practical world. I told him that art is frustrating me in the way that the teacher is always telling me to paint the air or to bring up the sky at the same time I bring up the tree or to paint the relationships. I see the purpose of saying that, the purpose of unifying the whole painting, but I don't understand how to go about it practically. For one, it doesn't make sense to try to paint the sky between the branches, and another--you'd have to be washing your paint brush after every stroke. Pretty soon everything you paint would be grey-brown. His answers only made it more unclear to me how to bring the abstract concept into the practical world. I left feeling all tangled inside because I hate being in a state of not understanding something.
Later that day in art class we took the bus to Mt St-Victoire again and we painted in the middle of the Mistral. The wind knocked down our easels and blew away our art supplies. The wind was doing what I wanted to do anyway because I was so discombobulated and frustrated with art today.
When I met my parents back at their villa, they let me in through the side door because they'd lost their keys. They had spent the day watching bocce ball in the park, which is a big game here among Provencal men. Then they went to a cafe and mom thought she left the keys there and went back to ask for them. The waiter was really mean to her and not even willing to help her, even when--especially when---she was trying with her phrase book. I felt guilty that she had to experience someone being so mean to her, especially after telling them that the people of the South of France are very nice to Americans. After she finished telling me the story, we put on our coats to go to Colette's and my mom found the keys in her pocket!
Another round of translating tonight at Colette's. We weren't staying for a meal, but we were going for aperitif instead. Still, we were there for quite a while. Colette was much more long-winded this night than she had been on the afternoons with Chuck. I had to try to memorize her long speeches as she went along and then try to remember where she began and translate from there. I translated her stories, her strong political views, her kind ways of calling to my parents' attention how plump she's made me. Translating for her makes me feel so fluent in the language. It solidifies for me the fact that I do understand everything that she says. It's reassuring to me in my abilities, and I liked that I this was a tangible way to show off to my parents and to show them how much this experience was paying off.
When she left the room, my parents started talking about how she is so much just like Great Grandma Glosson, who I never met because she died before I was born. I had heard stories about her all my life and I always regretted never having the chance to meet her. But now Colette is more than just one of the best friends I've made here and one of my favorite people I've ever spent so much time with, but she's also the Grandma that I never got the chance to meet. I feel so lucky I have the opportunity to finally meet her.

Almost imprisoned at the hotel

pamelaglosson — Mon, 24 Mar 2008 12:06:00 GMT

We woke up at 4 to make sure we could be at the airport in time for Chuck's flight. We walked downstairs with our bags and the front door was locked. We couldn't leave the hotel! We tried our room key in it, we tried wriggling this and that, we started looking for windows. Chuck rang the doorbell outside of the reception office, but if there even WAS a night staff here, it would probably be that old man and he would be sure to not hear this bell.
But sure enough, ten minutes after our rings, he hobbled out of the reception door and asked me what we needed. I told him we needed to leave in order to catch a flight and then he started saying something I didn't understand. I thought for sure my French was just really poor because I kept thinking he was asking me about the television. Finally on the third "comment?" I understood that he WAS asking me about the television in our room. "Yes, I told him, that was our room, but we didn't watch it." and with this answer, he seemed to understand everything and let us out of the hotel.
On the way there, we went over Chuck's flight information and he started talking about how he'd arrive in Chicago the next day.
"No you won't" I said. "You arrive this afternoon, see? The time zone change works in your favor"
"No, look" he pointed to the date on the paper. Sure enough, his layover in Madrid looked like it was 26 hours. The company he had used to book his ticket, StudentUniverse, had sent him many emails in the past month changing around his ticket times, and this last time the change held him back in Madrid for over a day. I asked someone at his airline's help desk, which was the most unhelpful help desk I'd ever been to.
"There's nothing we can do."
"You can't even check to see if there exists a flight that he could try to talk to someone else about changing into?"
"No"
But we found someone at the check-in desk who got Chuck on an earlier flight to Madrid so that he might be able to have a higher chance of finding an early flight to Chicago from there. Meanwhile, I had to run to catch my train at the Gare de Lyon. He took me as far as he could take me without actually getting on the subway train that was headed to the train station.

I always worry about rushed good-byes. But I know that we spent every last second that we could with each other because I arrived at the train station only 7 minutes before my train was to depart. I sprinted trying to find it and then sprinted down the track to my seat, and it pulled away only seconds later.

The weather in Paris was chillly and grey, but as we continued down the line towards the South of France, we drove through blinding blizzards. By the time we reached Provence, the sun was shining on the red dirt and green fields and everything looked like summer, but I learned later that that morning they had gotten snow as well. It snowed in Aix for the first time ever in Provence on easter. Cars were covered with almost an inch of snow, Colette described with her fingers.
From the TGV station in Aix, I took the bus to the airport in Marseille to meet my parents. They had seen the Mistral wind from their plane, and felt it too. I was really hoping for some beautiful weather for their visit, but the Mistral was a biting cold that is awful to bear. They were greeted by the harsh alpine wind and then by my walking demands. When we were in Europe over Christmas they got tired of all the walking I made them do, and this time I tried to make it better, but on our way to the villa I realized I had them walking up and down hills and for much longer than I realized. They were pooped when we arrived. They asked about France and I talked all excitedly, but their sleepiness took over and they took a late afternoon nap.

Easter Sunday

pamelaglosson — Sun, 23 Mar 2008 12:04:00 GMT

In the morning we took the TGV back to Paris.
This is Easter Sunday, and we happened upon an entire orchestra playing in one of the cave-like hallways of the subway once we got into the city. An entire orchestra. They were dressed in street clothes as if one of them said "What are you guys doing on Easter? Want to grab a coffee together? Want to come over and watch the game? Want to bring your instruments to the subway and play classical favorites?" We stayed for a while listening, and then we went to Montmartre. I'd told him about Montmartre so many times when I used to fantasise about "One day we could go to Paris together..." but I wondered if it would be dissapointing to see after I'd talked it up so much. But he really loved it too. We climbed the stairs to the top and we walked through the streets. We watched the artists for a while and we wound our way to a little place where we got crepes to share. I asked if he'd like to go inside the Sacred Heart cathedral, and he did. We happened to enter during the Easter mass. I had forgotten again that was Easter, but I felt lucky we had accidentally stumbled upon this. Chuck and I both grew up Catholic, and so the church had that same strangeness and familiarity all mixed up at once, just like our churches did when we were younger. For me, the added effect was the strangeness of hearing all of the familiar prayers and all of the familiar phrases of the priest but in a foreign language. I was able to know the Lord's Prayer without having ever heard it in French before because the entire service, especially the prayers, were a direct translation from what I knew in English. I was so glad I had gotten to experience that on the Easter holiday.
After church, we went back outside and it was raining. It was getting dark so we wanted to find a place to stay for the night. We found a hostel but it was full. She called several different hostels for us but they were all full or much more money than I would consider paying for a hostel (100 or more euros per night!). We walked more and along our way we found a tiny hotel and decided to try it. When I told the 150-year-old man at the counter that we'd like the cheapest room, the one without shower or toilets, for 30 euros please, he responded: "You were here yesterday".
We went through the reservation process and he told me my room would have a TV. "Okay" I said, not planning to even watch it, but he continued to tell me a little bit more about the TV. Finally I payed him, two 20 euro bills. "Don't you have anything smaller?" he asked. I hadn't thought it would be a problem to pay forty euros for a thirty-euro room. But somehow he was able to make change for the twenty and give me a ten back.
Our room was amazing...the wallpaper was peeling off the walls, the desk was balancing on three legs....it was working well to call itself a 'dive'.
We listened to it pour outside and tried to decide if we were hungry enough to bear the cold rain. We finally decided to bear the cold. During dinner he told me lots about India that I never knew before. He'd told me stories, but never a full narrative like this. I loved listening to it as I fell asleep like a good bedtime story. I couldn't keep my eyes awake any longer to let him know I was listening, and instead I drifted off into a heavy sleep.

It would be a shame to be late for a gang bang.

pamelaglosson — Sat, 22 Mar 2008 12:01:00 GMT

This is what one of our French friends from the engineering school told us one night when we were late. Then we taught him what that means, so he laughed and uses it even more.

---------------------------------------------

Saturday morning was beautiful, making Chuck really want to go back to Mt St-Victoire. It was our last day and I really wanted to take him to Nice on this beautiful day, but I also wanted to give him the opportunity to climb to the very top peak of Mt St-Victoire. Finally we decided on spending the day at the mountain instead of the coast, as it would save us hours spent in the bus that we could be spending outside.  But before we left, we looked for some costumes we could wear that night to the Arts and Metiers ball--the engineering school had been planning a huge costume party for that night and there had been posters for it all over town. We found a dress and some jewelry to make me into a very 60s go-go girl, and we found a gold track jacket and gold sunglasses to make him look like anything but Chuck...maybe an R&B artist?
We spent the day on the mountain. We arrived at the other side of the mountain, the side I've never seen. There is a huge beautiful aqua-blue lake there created by a dam. We hiked along the lake and followed the trail up to the top. It was freezing cold when we got there, and the wind was so strong, but we reached the top of Mt. St-Victoire! Now when I look at the mountain from far away, I can't believe that we climbed that high and actually reached that cross (which from down below only looks like a black dot atop the mountain peak).
We spent the whole day at the mountain, and then we came home to prepare for the ball...
The whole courtyard of the school was filled with people--about 3000 they told us. We went into their huge theatre/lecture hall for dancing and I was struck by something I'd never seen at a school dance before: strippers. I suppose at an engineering school made of mostly men, strippers might be included in the soiree budget. They danced on stage to the music while all the rest of us danced with each other everywhere else. We danced to anything they played, and we didn't get home until 5 am.  My favorite song of all was the one towards the end I'd never heard before, and all the French swung their arms around each others' shoulders making a circle. They sung along and moved in and out of the circle and started jumping too. I loved how everyone got really into their costumes. There were great costumes everywhere, and even the girls dressed up as real things and not just a tiny little outfit with a prop or hat to indicate exactly what she is supposed to be (like in America).