Europe

The fastest month of my life!

pamelaglosson — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 19:24:00 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 11:10:00 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 23:13:00 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 23:11:00 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 23:09:00 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 23:08:00 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 23:07:00 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 23:06:00 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 23:04:00 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 23:01:00 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).

Marseille

pamelaglosson — Fri, 21 Mar 2008 22:59:00 GMT

We had planned to go to Nice today, but the weather was awful, so we decided a rainy day would be a bad choice for spending on the coast. We visited Colette for a little while in the morning and then we walked to the bus station in the afternoon to take a bus to Marseille. Even though I am only 20 minutes from Marseille, I had never yet been there, so it was new for both of us. So far I'd been showing him everything around France, but now we got to explore something together, which was fun. But it was tough exploring, because it was so cold and windy. We walked along the old port and we found a beach so he could finally see the Mediterranean Sea, but the water looked rough and monstrous and charcoal gray under the pouring rain with the wind forcing all around. The wind turned our umbrella inside-out, and we walked wet and cold back to the port. We climbed up the fort (Fort Nicholas? I'm probably wrong) and we could see around us for a long distance...but all we could see was grey and rain. We walked back up the port, sort of hungry, and stopped at an Indian restaurant called Jaipur. Jaipur was one of the towns that Chuck studied in last summer in India, and so we decided that's where we wanted to eat. But it looked closed. We tried walking in but it was dark and no one answered our "Bonjour?". I tried to tell him we were much too early for a French dinner at only 6:30. Finally someone came out and turned on the lights and sat us. We ordered mango juice (fresh squeezed and so so so delicious) and a sampler plate of all kinds of different Indian dishes. Chuck said one thing he would come away from France with is the appreciation for the whole ceremony of a meal here--how it's more than just eating, it's about spending time with your family or loved ones for a while each day, and the food is secondary.

It was still raining when we were done, but we still walked through the streets exploring. We started heading toward the bus stop as the bus was pulling away. We ran three blocks to catch it in the rain and we nearly missed it, calling after it a little bit before it stopped and we got in! It was an exhillerating run at the end of our evening.

The French revolt

pamelaglosson — Thu, 20 Mar 2008 22:57:00 GMT

Today was the day I got to REALLY show Chuck how busy my days of class can be. Even though they are not very hard, they are very time consuming...and the day gets long. Maybe now he'll understand why I can't be writing letters as much as he would like me to!
It turned out we still had a test in French. One of my friends informed me of it a few hours before the exam--our teacher had left a note on the door so that we would know. The class was ready to revolt, but she didn't come to class. Another of the teachers gave us the test because our teacher was at home sick. We took the test, but we also wrote and signed a petition that said we didn't agree with her telling us there would be no exam and then giving us one, which left us no time to prepare.
In art class, I got an easel for Chuck this time. He continued to work on his Mt St-Victoire painting even though we were at the studio. It was a beautiful day and I kept reflecting at how awesome it was to be painting with him on this beautiful day.
That night Bradie and I took him out to go dancing, but there was almost no one there! We felt like we let him down on the nightlife in France. But we also have a costume ball to go to on Saturday and hopefully that will make up for it.

Serendipidous Stew

pamelaglosson — Wed, 19 Mar 2008 22:54:00 GMT

We wanted to spend the whole day at Mt St-Victoire today, but I had one class that I had to go to and it was in the middle of the day. Almost nothing was accomplished in this class and I was really frustrated that I had wasted half of the day so that we could go to it.
But I guess we were at least able to use the morning to go to the vegetable market and buy vegetables to cook. I picked out all my favorites: eggplant, zucchini, yellow pepper, tomato...all the things that would taste so good cooked up together. I got a cucumber and radishes and lettuce to make a salad. I couldn't wait to make our meal that night. Ironically, I know nothing about cooking.
After my class, we took "la Victoirine" bus to Mt. St-Victoire. We weren't sure where to get off, because each place the bus pulled over seemed far away from the mountain and really remote. Finally, the last stop was in a tiny village and we had no choice but to get off. In the winding roads of the street, we weren't sure which way we should go, but I suggested we go up the streets since that was probably the direction of the mountain, which is also up (isn't that eloquent logic?) Indeed, we found ourselves at the foot of the mountain this way. But we couldn't find a trail, so we just continued up. Until 'up' became a cliff that was too steep to climb and we had to start at the beginning again. This time we found trail markers, but we had to learn to decode them along the way. A red "---" meant 'this is the red path' an "X" of the same red color for 'this is not the red path'. A 'Y' in red meant that we were at a fork in the road, but it didn't really suggest which part of the fork we should take. We hiked up the trail and we could see the colorful fields and little towns along the countryside below and I told him it was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. It was. When we had climbed pretty far we found ourselves at a clearing and he asked "should we go back now or should we continue? It's already late afternoon". I was flabbergasted that he would turn back now. Safety over adventure...that's the decision I unfortunately have trouble making. So we continued to ascend and we finally reached the top. Or one of the peaks, at least. We could see all around, and the sun was making everything golden in that perfect time of afternoon.
On our way back down the mountain, we picked a little bit of the rosemary from the side of the path. This was probably very interdit (not allowed) but we couldn't pass up the opportunity to use fresh-from-the mountain rosemary in the cooking that night.
It started getting even chillier on the way down. And we missed the bus by ten minutes, meaning we had to wait another hour and a half for the next one. We walked around the town, but all the shutters were closed and lights were off by this time. We shivered on a park bench, until we finally spotted the bus. Feeling that cold made me realize how lucky I was that my push for adventure didn't leave us stranded on the mountain in the dark for the night.

At home, I was exhausted...from the climb, from the wind. We started to make a ratatouille recipe through guessing. We sauteed garlic and onion. We cut up the rest of the vegetables in huge hunks and cooked all everything together in a huge pot. We added provencal spices and thyme, and then the special ingredient: fresh rosemary from the mountainside. We let it simmer for at least an hour, and then we found we had made the best thing we'd ever tasted. And certainly the best ratatouille that had ever been made in the history of Provence. I'd love to remake this tasty dish someday so that I can show anyone else how delicious our serendipidous recipe turned out to be.

Chuck spends his spring break taking me to class

pamelaglosson — Mon, 17 Mar 2008 01:33:00 GMT

Chuck came to my classes today. My first class was completely in French so he didn't understand any of it. But he did understand what was happening as the first order of business before class started, even though this was all happening in French, too. The teacher handed back our midterm tests. In the U.S., the teacher often hands back the tests to each student, face down, and the grades stay private. Not the case here. He set the stack of tests on the desk of the girl next to me, and she shuffled through them to find hers and then we passed the pile around the room to get our tests. So, in effect, we all got to know each others' grades. Then he wanted the student with an A+ to let the class know what they have written. The person with an A+ did not volunteer themselves, and so he went across the front row trying to find out who had the A+. He checked each test and read the grade aloud "B...B+....A....A-...." and then "...A+! Voila!" he said as he got to my desk. Apparently I was that student. Great, but also incredibly nervewracking. "Oh!" I said and then "What am I supposed to do?" "Read it aloud now," he said.
So I read three single-spaced pages on the history of Provence in French aloud this morning. I felt like I droned on for hours. My cheeks were flushed bright red. My heart was racing. I could hear my grammatical errors fall through the air.... like a ping-pong ball rolling away from the table and under the couch so you can't get at it, and you can only continue with a new one and hope you don't do it again.
We met Bradie for lunch. She's the person I'm closest withi here and of course he's the person I'm closest to at home. I wondered if I was the same to both of them, or how they'd get along with each other and what that meant about how I was changing over here. They got along really well, joking and laughing with each other from the very start, and it felt very right.
In French class, poor Chuck couldn't have been more bored. This class is pretty boring anyway, just learning grammatical structures, so if one does not even understand what's being said, it has to be even worse. The good news is she told us we have no test for Thursday.
Our 4th grade class today was crazy. We brought in bingo and they couldn't have been more out-of-control. Chuck could hear them from the courtyard. I couldn't imagine being with those kids all day for five days a week. I suppose you would get used to it, but just one hour per week is so difficult for me.

Food and Politics

pamelaglosson — Sun, 16 Mar 2008 01:27:00 GMT

Today we had to wake up at 5:30 to go to the Gare de Lyon and head back down to Aix-en-Provence. I love the train station because it looks like a huge greenhouse with the windows on the top and the metalwork decorations look so old-fashioned. I had told Chuck about the TGV a long time ago and he always found the translation funny: "Train of Great Speed"...such a turn-of-the-century name for such a modern transportation.
On the train, I loved watching the scenery change from the north to the south. The green cloudy fields in the north looked like what I imagine Ireland to look like, and the south is full of sunshine and red dirt.
Once in Aix, I was so excited to show him everything. It was like having part of my life at home get to know my life here in France, and it was a good feeling to have them merge.
But before anything, we had a lunch planned with my host mom, so we walked down the road for that.
The meal began with an aperitif while we waited for her sister to arrive. Today was the day of the second round of municipal elections, and Colette's excitement was almost rabid. She told us she would be at her television from 6pm until 2am watching programs about the elections. "Think of me tonight!" she said "They will be choosing the candidate!"

Luckily I had told him all the correct things to say to win her affections, which are "Barack-O" because she likes him as a candidate in the U.S. elections and "Sarcozy, fou!" meaning Sarcozy is crazy while making a gesture around his ear.
I was serving as translator for them both, but I realized that when I translate for one of the other, it makes the person being spoken to feel obligated to respond, so sometimes I wouldn't translate everything and I would just converse with one or the other if it seemed like they were talking to me only. Although the translating itself was easy, the etiquette of it was hard. When do I make someone wait while I translate what they've said? She was only talking to me, should I translate to Chuck so he doesn't feel left out?
But I also loved the way he looked at me when I was rattling off my French with Colette. I don't speak French at home, and I don't know if he's ever seen me do it, even though we've been living together for a while. To watch him look at me so admiringly for something new after we've been together so long felt so good.
When Colette's sister arrived, we sat at the table. The first course of dinner, the appetizer, was made of grilled peppers and ham and vegetables of all sorts. There was much more, I can't even remember. I thought Chuck must have been pretty hungry the way he ate a couple of servings of each thing, and it made Colette so happy to see him eating so much. But then I realized that he didn't know it was just the appetizer, so he had been eating like it was the meal. When she cleared the table he said "That was really delicious!" for me to translate, and then she came back out with the main course, eggplant parmesean and grilled beef. He looked at me in horror. "There's more?" he asked. "Yes," I told him. "That was only the appetizer. After this there will be salad, too, and then cheese and then dessert". His mistake was completely understandable seeing how large it was and knowing it to be lunch, not dinner. I thought I had explained to him how the French meals go, but maybe he thought I had been exaggerating. He tried to apologize and explain he wouldn't be able to eat much more, but when I translated Colette responded that that was nonsense and filled his plate. He finished everything, including the beef. He hadn't eaten beef in two years, and he ate it without any question, but with a very full stomach! He tried the cheeses that she brought out next and he ate the fresh strawberries she had for dessert. But after three hours of lunch, the longest lunch of both of our lives, he needed to lie down. Colette offered for him to sit on the couch while the rest of the three of us chatted for a while. When Chuck and I started to help clear the table, she forcefully stopped us, as always, and told us to go and have a nice week together.
I didn't eat anything the rest of the night, and I hadn't even made that painful mistake that Chuck did!
We walked around Aix-en-Provence that evening and I showed him my school and the important streets and fountains. We walked past the town hall which was teaming with people! There was a huge crowd around it at around 10 and 11pm. I would have normally thought there was a concert or something with a crowd as big as that, but we could hear the mayor giving a speech and we realized it was all the citizens waiting to find the results for the municipal elections. I'd never seen anything like that before. I pictured Jay, the mayor of Harvard, with hundreds of people crowded around the town hall waiting to see if he'd won the elections, and it made me laugh.

I was surprised when Chuck got a little hungry again around 11pm, a mere 8 hours after that lunch. But we found a Greek fast-food restaurant to get him a little something. Before I got to the counter, he asked if he could get his sandwhich without lettuce. I told him that they don't really do that here and gave him a look that said I don't want to ask that. It doesn't matter, he told me, because he could just take it out anyway. But when I got to the counter, the guy asked me if I wanted anything special on it, so I said "je voudrais tous que la laittue (I would like everything but lettuce)" but I think he heard me say 'I want all lettuce' because that's exactly what he did. I tried to rexplain, he tried to remake the sandwhich and it became a big hassle. As I handed the sandwhich to Chuck, I glared at him. But, in fact, he had told me not bother asking about it and then I did, so it didn't make sense for me to blame him. We sat outside and I ate his lettuce while he ate his sandwhich, because that's what we usually do with sandwhiches.

A Day in Paris Together

pamelaglosson — Sat, 15 Mar 2008 01:23:00 GMT

I readied my disguise this morning and headed for the airport. My train to the airport was late, but when I got there no one from his plane had gotten off yet. Or so I thought. I waited at the gate with my big sunglasses on and a scarf wrapped around my head--you know, the old fashioned 'disguise' from the movies. I waited. I waited. I started to wonder if he'd gotten held back in customs. I finally checked my phone and saw I had missed some calls from him. I called him back: "where are you?".
"I'm at the information booth by where I got off the plane. Where are YOU?" I had missed him when my train came in late because he only packed a carry-on for luggage.
I decided I still wanted to surprise him. "I'm a half-hour away. I'll be there soon!"
But I searched the information booth and he was nowhere to be seen. When I told him I was going to be late, he wanted to surprise me at the train I was coming in on. So I had to call him again and tell him "I'm at the information booth. Where are YOU?" He came back but he didn't recognize me. I approached him and asked him in French "May I help you with something sir?" and he sort of ignored me until I pulled off my sunglasses and he saw it was me. He embraced me so tightly that I thought he was going to break my ribcage...really. That was a fun surprise, but nothing like I'd planned it.
Somehow I had no idea what he looked like. At first he looked like a stranger to me, but after a couple of minutes, he looked exactly like I remembered. Seeing someone in person is so much different than thinking of them or seeing a picture, and I didn't realize how different until just then. In the first few minutes walking together out of the airport, it felt surreal. Soon it became so familiar. But it was bizarre to have the familiarity in a strange place like a foreign country.
It was gorgeous out and since we couldn't decide what to do first, I took him on a walking tour of all the big sites of the city. We started at Notre Dame. We walked over the bridge to the island where it rests in the middle of the Seine. I took him underground the cathedral and showed him the ancient Roman ruins that my grandpa had told me about. We walked through the city and saw rollerblading acrobats and boats with gardens on them. I took him by the Louvre and through the courtyard. We walked through the museum as much as we could without 'entering' an entrance with a fee. Then we walked through Tuileries garden and sat on a bench to watch some kids playing in the park. I started to explain to him French history as we came to the Place de la Concorde, where Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette's heads were cut off. Then I took him down the Champs Elysees and there was a military procession at the Arc de Triomphe that we watched for a little while. By this time it was starting to get dark a little and cold. And then it started to rain a little. And then a lot. We found a cafe near the river and sat under the awning drinking tea. We kept thinking the rain would let up, but it just got stronger. At one point he noted that it wasn't coming down as much as it was before, because now it was coming sideways with all the wind! But he still wanted to see the Eiffel Tower and I still wanted to take him. I couldn't believe how good of a sport he was being with all the jet lag he must have been having. I would have requested a nap by this point, especially during the rain! We fought through the rain over the river and to the tower. We waited in a cold wet line with everyone holding up umbrellas like weapons. I hate umbrellas--I feel that a person should have a license to hold up pointy objects at eye-level.
Finally we made it to the top. We were soaked and the wind at the top was a true gale. I tried to point out all the sites, but I could see he was tired and cold and probably hungry too because we hadn't eaten much all day. He tried to convince me he wasn't miserable, but I was feeling it too. We came redescended the 'romantic' landmark and walked back to the hotel to sleep (we got back so late) because we had an early 7am train the next morning.

A day to myself in Paris

pamelaglosson — Fri, 14 Mar 2008 20:21:00 GMT

Today I took the TGV very early into Paris. I got here at 9:15, so I had the whole day to myself in the city. I went to a cafe first, for tea and a tartine (toast) and I worked on my sketchbook for art there, watching the passersby and the fountain on the corner. I like how after I've bought a tea, I can sit there for as long as I want without feeling rushed to leave. It started to rain and I kept my seat outside the cafe under the canopy and enjoyed my hot tea. That was incredibly nice. An incredibly wonderful way to spend my morning.

It's funny the ways you can save money (or spend extra money) when you travel. For example, the hotel I'm staying in costs 42 euros per night. It is on the top floor with a view of Notre Dame only blocks away. My room doesn't have a shower or toilet in it, though, only a sink. If I wanted a room with a shower and toilet, I could pay 79 euros. But the shower and toilet are DIRECTLY across the hallway. Is it worth 37 euros to save a couple steps in getting to the bathroom?

I went for a walk around the city, exploring the smaller streets in this area. I sent Chuck an email to apologize for the pinkeye I would have when he arrives. I looked it up on wikipedia and it turns out I have the worst kind, which is the viral kind and it lasts for three weeks. But when Chuck called me tonight before he got on the plane, he told me that he talked to an eye doctor who said that the 'pinkeye' part of the virus usually shows up at the end of three weeks and goes away in a matter of days. This makes sense with me being sick a couple weeks ago and then sick again so soon, especially because I don't get sick that often. This is relieving news.

I watched French families and tourists all afternoon at the park. It was nice to be here and not feel rushed to see all sorts of different monumental sites. I got to watch a little Parisian life and enjoy the sunshine instead. It's not too cold here, which is surprising because it was unbearably freezing when mom and I were here only a couple of months ago.

la peste

pamelaglosson — Thu, 13 Mar 2008 20:19:00 GMT

In my history class, we are learning about the black plague, which in French they called "la peste". What a cute name for something so awful. Right now I'm experiencing a little "la peste" myself, though not nearly so severe. Just irritating. You know, like a pest.

Tomorrow I leave for Paris. Chuck is coming on Saturday. And I have pinkeye...what luck. This is probably why I've been tired and getting sick, too. I've never had pinkeye before, so I didn't know that's what this is. I thought I had an irritated contact or something, so I've been wearing my glasses instead. But when it lasted all day, I went to the pharmacy and they gave me medicine for it. It's a little different in France, where you go to the pharmacist for almost everything instead of the doctor. You tell the pharmacist the symptoms and they decide which medicine to give you to cure it. You don't necessarily need a prescription for most things. I like it this way, though, because I was able to go right after class and I didn't have to wait to get a doctor's appointment and go to the doctor's office in order to get a prescription for something that someone was able to help me with very quickly. In fact, if I had to get a doctor's appointment...if I had to find out where to go, then make an appointment and schedule it for some day in the future, I probably wouldn't have done it because I would have thought to myself "I'll feel better by the time I see the doctor anyway".

Thursdays are my busy day of class, so it was especially painful today. We had to watch a movie in psychology and staring at that bright screen in the dark room for over ninety minutes hurt so badly. Same in history, looking at the bright projector slides. And then finally in art, focusing intensely at the far-away still life and then back at the canvas in front of me. I finished my painting a little early and I was going to ask the teacher if I might leave fifteen minutes early so I could stop at the pharmacy, but instead he came over and said "how about you do another painting, a quick study". I know he didn't know how direly painful I was feeling, so I didn't kick him in the shin in response, even though I wanted to.

After that, Bradie and I had an appointment to talk to the director of that made-for-TV movie. We thought maybe this was auditions, but that didn't really make sense since he was having us meet him at the épicerie again. He had told us how to prepare for auditions, though, so we weren't sure. When we got there he talked to us a little about the script and told us his plans for the movie, trying to answer any questions we had, which we really didn't have any because we're not exactly serious actors. We started to get the impression he'd already found people for the roles because he was telling us that filming starts next week (as if everything is already ready to go and he's not worried about finding actors anymore) and that he'll send us an email and hopefully our schedules work together or something. That's too bad because that would have been an interesting adventure to experience and write about! But I'm also relieved because with Chuck and my parents visiting in the next two weeks, I had wondered if the movie filming was going to take up a lot of the time I would have to spend with them. Who knows, maybe we'll still land some small non-speaking role in this oscar-worthy piece.

When I got home, Colette was gone at a political gathering of sorts. She came home soon afterwards and told me all about it--the Vice President of France was there. And though I don't really know what this meeting was about, I know that the place was full of people and that there was lots of cheering at the speeches. Those are the details that Colette was especially happy about.

Midterm week continues.

pamelaglosson — Tue, 11 Mar 2008 20:18:00 GMT

Today I had my last midterm of the week....they were all crammed into the first two days of this week and it was pretty awful. I had four exams and a paper due in that short amount of time. And most of the exams...actually, ALL of them, were essay exams that took an hour and a half each. I'm glad to be done.

After my last exam, I had art class. And today I finally understand what he's been talking about. See, he'd been reciting these abstract phrases to us as if we'd talked about them in class already and they were familiar to us, as in "remember that class period when we learned about relationships?". Today the other art teacher, Alan Roberts was there and he came over to me to talk about my painting. He told me about how painting is just like drawing, where you put down the dark colors and the light colors just come off of the page, and so (in very basic terms) you work the pages darks first before moving onto the lighter tones. Otherwise you try to paint a yellow pear and it doesn't look right and you keep trying to fix it with highlights and paint, when all you really need to do is paint the dark bowl around it and that will create the light itself. After he explained this, I felt dumb for not understanding it earlier. But I also think it merely takes this simple explanation for any of us students to understand these abstract concepts and then John doesn't have to go around to students in the class hopelessly trying to convince them to do something they don't understand. I really like that feeling of epiphany that comes with understanding something you've felt lost at.

When I got home, I fell asleep. I think I've just had too much with all these midterms and with staying up late this weekend. Colette woke me up for dinner, and I fell right back asleep afterwards.

I woke up the next morning at 4, which was about right, so I stayed awake to write and do homework, but I fell asleep again at 6 and didn't get up until 9. How can I need THAT much sleep? I'm starting to feel like I'm getting sick again, actually. I hope that isn't the case.

Midterm week begins

pamelaglosson — Mon, 10 Mar 2008 02:00:00 GMT

Today I had two very long exams and then I had teaching at the end of the day. My teaching partner, Mandie, was feeling confident about last week and was hoping it would go so well this week. We both made worksheets, and this week our topic was 'the circus' because that's their school theme this year. The kids were the most behaved they'd ever been. They were eager to participate and they were quiet. It was great. There are two reasons for this:

1) The teacher yelled at them that if they aren't good they will get three verbs tonight. I've heard her yell this before, though, so it didn't work last time. Just to clarify, though I'm not sure, I think verbs are a type of punishment homework.

2) Last week when we finished the worksheet, they got to play heads-up seven up (called "les puces" in French), and at the beginning of class they kept asking us if we would play it again. We said it depends if they're good.

Almost everyone tried to answer questions and it seemed that everyone understood the lesson. Finally! They liked the worksheet I made where I had done some of my own drawings for the vocabulary. I only made my own drawings because I don't have internet to search for images, but I think to them it seemed like I put more effort and time into their lesson that they could actually see. Maybe. At the bottom of the page, they had instructions for three drawings they had to complete, where they had to artistically show RELATIONSHIPS (sound familiar?). It wasn't quite so abstract, though. They had to draw "the mouse is next to the clown" or "the seal is under the table". At first they wouldn't draw. I took it as disrespectful or not-caring on their part, but then some students were coming up to me and saying they are bad at drawing, so what should they do? I went over to help them try their best. We walked around the room to look at the students' drawings and they started getting more and more interested in it. So much that they almost forgot about heads' up seven up . Almost. Finally one kid asked me if they could play since there were ten minutes left, and so I said to the class "Since you've been so good today and you have been quiet, we can play the game" and then said it again in French because I know they don't all understand. Then I noticed one little boy giggling and he corrected my French grammar. Because the class can't be "silente" the class can be "silencieuse". I feared this was going to happen one of these times, it was inevitable. And I knew the class would make fun of me and probably lose a little bit of respect for me as their teacher. But I was surprised. Instead they smiled and a couple of them laughed but it was more of an understanding like "see? foreign language is hard, lady." We ended the class with the game, and left. Today there was a big "Bye bye!" when we left. It seems to be going better every week.