Pictures and a quick update

Hi!

I realise it's been a couple of days since the last day of what should have been the daily updates...apologies for the delay.

Sunday was spent mostly quietly; in the morning, after waking up late after the epic party, we went to the Grand Palais to see an Andy Warhol exhibition. I enjoyed it quite a bit, and so did John, I think, Elisabeth I'm not sure and Sophie was underwhelmed. There were too many people, even though it was Sunday, so that dampened things a bit. 

The rest of the day we did more or less nothing. I finished reading my American news magazines and that was more or less it. We were going to go see the new Miyazaki film, but an issue with the ticket machine made us miss the show; luckily, we made it to the one after and I had just enough time to catch my train. I loved the film; I love most everything by Miyazaki that I've seen. This one (Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea) was very much bubbles and sunshine on the surface, but I think there's a more subtle subtext to be found if you search (or if you read it in). In any case, it was cute and nice and made me smile. It was a nice way to end Paris.

So now I'm back in rainy Tours, pretending to do my homework and succeeding occasionally. Yesterday I went into town with the granddaughter of the odd couple who took me to the France-Etats-Unis meeting and that was nice, and today I payed a visit to a friend of the family who teaches philosophy at Vaucanson. She lent me a few books by Descartes and Rousseau for me to try to read; we'll see how that goes.

And I've uploaded a selection of the Paris pictures into the Photobucket gallery; the upload was interrupted but I think most of them made it in:

http://s711.photobucket.com/albums/ww120/bleumarten/?start=20

'Til Sunday!

Cold feet, pet shops, and poetry

That's more or less all that can be said for today.

I spent most of the time messing with my photographs and poems from the last week, reading Newsweek and generally relaxing. In the evening I went out in search of aquarium plants with John on the row of pet shops by Pont Neuf, and then walked all the way back to the apartment through the lovely little neighborhoods in full Saturday evening swing. I even found an American bakery that I absolutely have to go back to, just to see if it tastes anything like home.

After that, we went to a party at one of their friend's apartments. Everyone drank too much and danced outrageously to things like 'Cry Baby' and the Macarena. It was a good time, even if the cigarette smoke did start to get overwhelming at around twelve-thirty. And now it's one-thirty in the morning and people are attempting to sleep in preparation for getting up early for the Andy Warhol exhibition tomorrow, so I think I'll join them before my sentences get any longer and I get anymore incoherent. Yes.

Ciao!

Writing with the ghosts in Pere Lachaise

There was other stuff that happened today, too, but that was my favorite part.

I'm only going to give a brief sketch since it's one-thirty in the morning:

In the morning, I think I accidentally aided a fare-jumper on the metro on my way out to the Petit Palais (why I didn't just walk I'm not sure). There, I learned that despite the fact that the museums are free, you still have to pay for the expositions even if you're under eighteen. A little annoying, but for all I've gained in culture from the museums of Paris, I can cough up eight euros in return. The exposition was fabulous, very worth the money: it was a collection of the works of William Blake, an author who I really don't know well enough. His artwork was beautiful, though. Very, very, very Romantic. The Romantics make me smile. I adore the style about as ardently as I disagree with it. Anyway, Blake is brilliant, the exposition was very well-done, and afterwards I hung around the museum for another hour looking at artifacts from ancient Greece until I was ready for lunch.

I took the metro out to Parc Monceau and, after painstakingly choosing a place to get a panini, I sat in the park for about an hour or so and wrote poetry (I ate beforehand, if that's not clear...). Once I ran out of things to say and when the soccer game on the field to the left started launching projectiles perilously in my direction, I decided to head up to Montmartre since I'd heard there was a museum of Salvador Dali's work there, and besides, why not?

So I spent the next couple of hours wandering around Montmartre, and eventually did find the Salvador Dali museum, where I proceeded to fall in love. I knew his work vaguely beforehand, but now after having seen more than just 'The Persistence of Memory' and 'Bacchanale' I think it's safe to say that he's among my favorite artists if not my very favorite artist.

After that, since I still had some time to waste before everyone came home, I went out to Pere Lachaise, found a bench after wandering around the gravestones for a while (I found one with a copper pelican on top, but I'm still kicking myself for not going back and figuring out to whom it belonged), and wrote poetry for the rest of the afternoon. In the meantime, about three different people asked me if I knew where Edith Piaf's grave was-- strange only because she was the -only- person people asked me about. And there was also a drunk guy near the entrance who saw me photographing some birds in the trees shading the main avenue, and we had a brief but interesting conversation on what kind of bird it was I was photographing (we decided it might be a kestrel-- "Which isn't an eagle, but they're in the same family, I think"-- and then I quietly excused myself and went the next several alleys over). I was so engrossed in my writing (after the interruptions) that I stayed in a full half-hour after closing; luckily, there was a maintenance person who saw me running from entrance to entrance and kindly opened one of them for me.

So I took the metro home at rush hour and got home around sunset after getting momentarily lost on the way home. For dinner we had cheese I think in every single course, which was wonderful, and then we went bowling.

I'm terrible at bowling. My overall score was a twenty. Anything that vaguely looks like a sport is evidently too much for me.

And now it's two in the morning and I'll write more tomorrow, if life permits. 

Attention, attention, c'est le train de fete de...Angela, Julie, et Elisa?

So, there was Disneyland.

What can I say but that it was Disney?

I'll give more details tomorrow when I've got more time; it's about eleven-thirty here, so I think I'll be going to bed soon. But I thought I'd write something, just to let y'all know that I didn't just forget. So until then, ciao!

Mimes + sushi = just another Wednesday in Paris

I sleep better in Paris, evidently-- I only woke up when Elisabeth's alarm went off at ten, and normally I can't sleep past eight. The morning was a series of failed attempts of trying to do something and finishing by doing something else: Sophie and I tried to do some grocery shopping, but the store was closed (it's Wednesday, is the explanation), so we ended up visiting a series of smaller shops instead, which was on the whole much nicer. I found a shop to get cheese to bring back home, in any case (they'll wrap it so that it keeps better and the dogs at customs can't smell it). After that, we tried to go to a little sculpture museum close to the apartment, but Sophie decided that we would take our business elsewhere when we came and found that we had to pay. Normally the city-owned museums are free (and that was what it said on the museum's website), but when the museum is hosting an exhibition, you have to pay for it. Since the museum evidently hosts exhibitions for eight months out of the year, Sophie found this policy more than a bit dishonest and is going to write the mayor to complain. 

Me, I just say, vive la France.

After having leftover salmon and pasta for lunch, we met up with Julie and took the metro to see a mime show. We managed to get there fifteen minutes early despite getting slightly lost on the way there (I felt slightly better about myself on yesterday's performance). The show itself was interesting; certainly mime is an under-appreciated form of storytelling. I find it fabulous that an actor can communicate an entire world of objects into being without ever saying a single word (unless a few sound effects count). It says a lot about our interpretation of symbols, and our ability to infer... I don't think we appreciate enough the importance of non-verbal communication. But in any case, I don't think it would have been half as fun if there hadn't been a preschool group in the audience sitting ahead of us-- they were really into the show and brought a whole new life into the performance ("No, it's that way! That way!" "Pick me, pick me!"). They did get annoying at times, but for the most part I think it was better that they were there.

Afterwards, we got slightly lost again on the way back to the metro, but ended up taking a long and lovely walk through a public garden, so it wasn't all bad. Back at the ranch, we spent a quiet afternoon reading/on the internet/cleaning/etc, and for dinner we made our own sushi. Noda's is still better, but all the same, it's fun making sushi. It changes things up a bit.

Tomorrow, it appears I'm co-chaperoning a trip to Disneyland. It'll be the first time I've gone since I was three years old...we'll see how it goes. 

Ciao!

So there was art, and sequoias, and occult bookshops...

Hey, look, I remembered the daily update promise! Without further delay:

I got up later today, but nonetheless I still ended up walking around the Eiffel Tower for an hour to waste time before the Musee de Quai Branly opened. It's a charming neighborhood and there were crows and graffiti and stickers to photograph, so I didn't mind. Paris is quieter in the morning; you can almost feel in certain places like you have the city to yourself. Life moves around you, somewhere, and it's peaceful.

The museum itself was nice enough. Not my favorite, but not my least favorite either. There were three exhibitions that were quite good: the first on the history of jazz, the second on the halfway-lost mythology of Manreva (a grouping of islands in the Pacific), and the last on modern-day cultural blend and exchange (basically, the effect of globalization on art and culture). I loved the exhibitions. The museum itself was lovely, too, but by the time I got to it I was starting to get restless. I went through two of the galleries in full-- the Americas and Africa-- and briefly saw the Australia section of the Oceania gallery before I left. The gallery for the Americas had very little from the continental US, and from there mostly from the Sioux. There was only one artifact from the southwest-- a funerary pot from one of the Pueblos (they didn't say which). Everywhere else was pretty well represented. Kenya and many of its surrounding states were strikingly missing from the Africa gallery, but I guess I only noticed that because I was looking for it.

I have to say, the design of the building is intriguing at first, but the distribution of the light is strange and it gets to you after a while. The Louvre was more open, even if its collections of art form outside Europe are rather...limited, shall we say. But still. It was a nice museum. I enjoyed my visit.

I took the bus back to the stop near Sophie's apartment, and from there the metro to the Musee Cluny stop in order to get to the Luxembourg gardens. Once I got out of the metro, I managed to go the wrong way three times, despite the fact that there were maps of the neighborhood every so many feet. I'm just fabulously uncoordinated that way. Once I went the right way, though, I made it without a problem. I bought a vegetarian crepe from a stand near the entrance that Sophie showed me the first time I visited her here ("You have to know the crepe stands; a lot of them are second-rate, but the good ones are -really- good"). This time I had the time to visit the gardens more thoroughly: walk around, take pictures, smell the flowers, enjoy the sunshine...  Let's see, what can I say about the Luxembourg gardens apart from that they're beautiful..? Well, there were some giant sequoias, which was interesting. I wouldn't have expected them there, and actually wouldn't have realised that they were giant sequoias but for the fact that there was a little sign saying so. Yes. And evidently everyone had the same idea as I did, that a nice visit to the gardens would be a good way to spend the afternoon, because it was absolutely packed (or as packed as a park can be). There was a dog that wouldn't stop barking at me while I was eating my crepe-- I guess he wanted some? His owners didn't seem to care; they would just wave a hand once in a while and say, "Oh, mais tais-toi, enfin" (Oh, shut up already), which was about as effective as it sounds. 

So, yeah, that was my afternoon, rather quiet and pleasant... Once my feet started to get tired from walking around, I decided to head back.

On the way back to the bus stop, there was a little news stand that had copies of the Economist, which I've been sorely missing in France, so I bought myself a copy, which turned out to be a good idea-- no one was at the apartment when I got back and I didn't have a key, so at first I walked around and looked at the shops and restaurants in the neighborhood (including a particularly interesting new age bookshop that smelled like incense and cigarettes), but as my feet were tired I quit after half an hour and went to sit on a bench inside the gate and read until Elisabeth came home and let me in. Sophie came home a little while later, and we set out to go see an Andy Warhol exhibition...

...except that the exhibition is closed on Tuesdays, so we walked around the area for a little while, crossed the Pont Alexandre III, and walked through Invalides and eventually all the way home. It was a perfect evening, in terms of the temperature and the set of the light, and it was nice to spend time with everyone else since I've been doing things mostly solo for the past couple of days. On the way home we got a baguette with bacon bits in it to share (it was...interesting?), had dinner, and now we're just relaxing. Everyone is on their own laptop, which is amusing. And now I suppose I'll write something, if I haven't written enough already, or read. We'll see.

Tomorrow we're going to a mime show, which should be interesting, and apart from that I don't believe there's anything on the radar. But in Paris, you never know. Stay tuned!

So hey, why don't we try this new thing...

Hello, my wonderful readers,

So this week I'm going to (attempt) to do daily entries, in order to save you (and me) from a gigantic post at the end of the week. And that way I can use all the fabulous post titles that have been stacking up in my head. But before I can start that, I have to pick up from last week, so let's have at it:

Wednesday:

There was school, which was the last day of normally-scheduled classes before the break. The classes themselves weren't particularly memorable, so we'll skip them. In the afternoon I went to see 'Nous Resterons Sur Terre' (We Will Remain on Earth), the French version of 'An Inconvenient Truth,' with Sophie and one of her friends, Anne. In some ways I think this was the better film; instead of a bunch of statistics, it was a series of visuals, which sometimes is much more effective. Visual creatures that we are, images will always make more immediate sense, I think, than numbers. In any case, it was certainly more striking on a visceral level, and more artistic. The point that bothered me was that it insisted that things need to change, but no suggestions were offered of how to start. In a lot of ways, I'll concede that we're still figuring that out, but there are still many, many elementary things that you can start doing that have the potential to effect enormous change, provided that enough people do them. In any case, it was worth watching, but not outstanding.

After that, through a misunderstanding I missed a panel on Jackie Kennedy through the France-Etats-Unis group, but it wasn't a grand loss since I had homework to do anyway. And that was it.

Thursday:

The morning was volleyball. I really hope we do something else after the break, because I am absolutely hopeless. English was cancelled for reasons that remain obscure, so I finished at four. I would have finished at three if the classroom for Math hadn't changed or if someone had told me that it had. In fairness, Laurene tried to tell me that it had, but when she described it I thought that it was a different room from what she was talking about. In the end, though, no harm done: on Thursdays we split into two groups for math, so I just went with the later group instead. During the afternoon time I had free, I read, pretended to do homework, actually finished some, and went to bed before midnight for the first time in a week, so all in all, a success.

Friday:

First thing in the morning we had an oral exam in Spanish, but this was actually kinder than the one in French: we had a mock trial, which is something that I've already done in my Spanish classes in the US. It went quite well; I didn't speak as much as I probably should have, but what I did say was pertinent and in mostly correct Spanish, so I count it as a victory considering how much difficulty I've been having trying to speak Spanish in France. The other classes weren't particularly remarkable; Social Studies was research for our project on how solidarity is a social duty, in French we did a group analysis of  one of the poems from the Bac Blanc, and in Drama we did a short writing assignment. 

The afternoon classes (which for me is just English) were cancelled for the Course contre la faim (Race Against Hunger). Unfortunately, I didn't find very many sponsors, but I did the run anyway and managed to do 10K, the maximum allowed unless you proved you were training for the Olympics, basically. I was pretty pleased with myself, especially considering I haven't really been doing any running since I left Albuquerque. To celebrate, I treated myself to a new jacket with a purple skull on the back (because life is too short to pass something like that up) and some cheap earrings. The treat was unintentional; I actually only went into town to pick up some tea for Sophie (my aunt Sophie, not my friend) as a thank you for letting me stay at her apartment in Paris, but since I spent too much time choosing and then was stopped by Armand, who happened to be passing by just as I exited, by the time I got to the stop, I'd missed my bus. The next one wasn't for another half hour, so I walked around the shops in the area for a bit, and there you have it.

And that was Friday, pretty much.

Saturday:

I took the early train to Paris. Sophie met me at the station, and then we went back to the apartment briefly in order to pack some overnight things to go out to their house in the country. Since we had some extra time before the train out left at ten-fifty, I asked if we could go to the post office on the corner to mail off a package and a couple of letters. We left at nine-thirty and didn't get out until quarter past ten. The woman at the counter had no idea how to do her job, and she was the only one with an open window. When we finally managed to leave, we booked it to the metro and from there to our train, and managed to make it with three minutes to spare (like I said, I'm getting the hang of this public transport thing...). All's well that ends well; we made it out without a problem, and we passed through fields upon beautiful fields of canola in flower in the mist and the rain.

Unfortunately, while pretty, the rain prevented us from doing much that afternoon. I read and shivered and dozed off by the fire for the most part. In the evening, I watched 'Howl's Moving Castle,' in French, which was interesting-- I didn't understand it at all since I missed the first half of the movie (I was calling my parents). After watching the first half the next day, it made much more sense and only confirmed my love for Miyazaki's work. (And Diana Wynne Jones's, I suppose it must be said, even though I actually haven't read 'Howl's Moving Castle.' I know, I know. But her Chrestomanci books were some of my favorites when I was between 10-13. And Dogsbody. I adored Dogsbody). 

All in all, very quiet, very pleasant.

Sunday:

Rain again in the morning, so after breakfast I spent most of my time stealing CD's to upload into my Itunes library from my uncle's gigantic collection. I fleshed out my Santana collection, added the Doors (why they weren't there already, I'm not sure), as well as Eric Clapton (ditto), Damien Rice, Alela Diane, and Leonard Cohen. By the time I finished with that, the rain had stopped, so I took a long walk by a canal that made me think of the ditch where I walk my dog back home (only much greener). When I got home, I was enlisted to make salsa for burritos. When I protested that I'd never made salsa before, my relatives protested back that I'm from New Mexico, and I had to concede that they had a point. Evidently, even though I'm not a native New Mexican, I still managed to make something that resembled salsa quite well, given the lack of certain key ingredients (jalepenos, for example). It was good enough to dip chips in, anyway, and now I can be among the proud and the few who can say they made salsa for the first time in France. For dessert, to round out the strange internationality, we had tiramisu (which I aided in the creation of), which was delicious. I kept the recipe, in case it comes in handy later.

We packed up the show after that and headed back to Paris. We visited Sophie's parents briefly and gave them flowers from the garden. By the time we got home, it was around eleven, so we went more or less directly to bed.

Monday:

Alright, catching up!

I woke up at eight and prepared myself as quietly as I could so that I wouldn't wake up Elisabeth (my cousin). I took the bus out to the Champs-Elysees and went to the Starbucks there, partly to waste time and partly because I really do miss Starbucks. In the US, I wouldn't be caught dead there, but somehow in France it's comforting.

After that, I took the metro out to the Hotel de Ville and walked from there to the Georges Pompidou Centre, where I proceeded to waste another forty-five minutes waiting for it to open. Mostly I was looking for a place to have lunch, but there were some shops close by that I went through as well. I found an absolutely fabulous rainbow tank top that I bought with the original intention of saving for Paris Pride, but ended up wearing that day; I put on long sleeves in the morning since the last several days were so cold, but the afternoon turned out to be sweltering, so it saved me from a good amount of discomfort considering I spent most of the time outside. Among other adventures, communists tried to recruit me (they were just standing outside of the museum and handing out flyers, so I guess I'm exaggerating a bit), and I took a lot of pictures of amusing graffiti. I even got other people to take pictures after me; I happened to stop and photograph a wall that reminded me of something Banksy might have painted (yes, I know he's British, but you never know), and a group of Spanish tourists behind me noticed and stopped to photograph it as well. The reason I know I was the reason they stopped? I overheard the following exchange (in Spanish), "Why are we stopping? What the hell is that?" "I don't really know, but that girl's taking a picture of it, so I guess it's important." I bit my tongue and skipped off.

Anyway, after all that fun, the museum finally opened. There was a minor moment of frustration when I was stopped at the gate and told to go to the ticket counter; evidently, even though it's free if you're under eighteen, you still have to stand in line to get an exemption ticket. I feel like that defeats the purpose a bit, but whatever. The line moved pretty fast; I was through in less than ten minutes. 

There are two exhibitions going on at the moment; one for Alexander Calder and the other one for Kadinsky. They were both striking in different ways. If you're not familiar with either of them, search their works. They're worth a look. I took a few pictures in the Calder exhibition until a guard politely stopped me and told me that photographs weren't allowed in the exhibition hall. I was embarrassed, but in any case I got pictures of all but one of my favorite pieces, and a couple with my little crane. I'll put them in the gallery later this evening or tomorrow, depending on when I have the time. I didn't take any pictures in the Kadinsky exhibition (for obvious reasons), but (I believe) photographs were allowed in the rest of the museum, so I have some of a few other pieces, a couple more with the crane, and a few of the view of Paris from the terrace. 

At around one thirty I left to go eat lunch. I went to a little Indian restaurant that I'd picked out that morning, since I've been longing for Indian food for a while (yep, my cravings: Satellite (using Starbucks as a substitute), Indian food, and green chile. Still waiting on the last one). It was pretty good: not Annapurna, but not bad either. Wonderful vegetable curry, cauliflower fritters, cheese nan-- the stuff of dreams, basically. The waiter was quite nice and was surprised when I tried to pay with my American credit card that I wasn't French. He shook my hand when I left. I was basically the only one in the restaurant; I think that's why.

After that, I walked from there to the Louvre. The Louvre, unfortunately, was absolutely packed, so I only stayed for about an hour before I headed out. This time I saw the Mona Lisa, as well as the Venus De Milo, among various other paintings and sculptures from various cultures and eras. There was also a striking series of paintings called 'Les Funerailles de Mona Lisa' that particularly caught my attention. The room they were in was nearly empty, and they were gigantic canvases, so it was an impressive effect. Black-and-white, eerie realistic sketches...I'm not sure how to describe them. I don't yet have the vocabulary to be an art critic or a sommelier. Powerful. That's good enough. 

Once I could take no more of the crowds I went out to the gardens of Tuileries and sat by a fountain for a while to rest and enjoy the sunshine. I walked the rest of the way to the Champs-Elysees, stopped and vaguely looked at a few of the stores but didn't buy anything, and then took the bus home. And that was pretty much it; now I'm just waiting on dinner. Homemade chevre tortellini. Mmmm. 

I haven't quite made my plans for tomorrow yet, so it'll be as much of a surprise for me as for you. But I definitely will try the daily update plan; at the worst I think I can make it every two days. The evenings seem fairly free, though, so it should work out. Keep checking!

Ciao for now!

Hey, look! Pictures!

Wow, I'm feeling motivated this Tuesday. I actually put up all the backlogged pictures since Fontainebleau. This includes a few from around Vaucanson and Mettray, as well as the new ones of Chenonceau and of the cookies I made with Camille. Enjoy!

http://s711.photobucket.com/albums/ww120/bleumarten/

'Til the next!

So, there was last week, and now there's this one, too

Hi,

Yes, so I'm incredibly disorganized this week (and last one, too, come to think of it). You'd think with a four-day weekend I'd remember to do the blog either Sunday or Monday, since I have both of them completely free...evidently not. There's too much temptation to do nothing when you have nothing to do, is the problem. That's why NaNoWriMo is in November and not in the summer, and why I never get my blog done until Monday night. Usually.

Enough of the introduction, and more of making up for last time:

Monday:

Not a lot-- I started two hours late because French was cancelled due to the oral exams, and got out three hours early since Theater was cancelled for the same reason (the Theater teacher also teaches French). Actually, I got out exactly at three, and it was funny that the day felt so short, getting out at what would be considered the normal time in the US... A nice treat, certainly. It'll make adjusting to the schedule back home easier, or at least, I hope so. 

Tuesday:

The morning wasn't especially memorable-- I think it was this day though that I got back the results of the History test that I thought I'd completely failed. 15. I was completely shocked. Happy, to be sure, but shocked. 15 is about an A on the US system-- anything above is in the above and beyond excellence category. So I was quite pleased with myself.

During my lunch hours, I went to the International Day of one of the technical schools in town with other the other AFS students studying in Tours. We all brought dishes from our home countries (I brought Rice Krispie Treats again, which were a big hit), and we had to go around and speak to the students in our native language in order to simulate the experience for them of adjusting to speaking a language other than your own. It was easiest for me since most of them spoke at least a bit of English-- it was the hardest for the students from Japan and Brazil. The thing was that most of the students didn't understand the exercise-- they just thought I didn't speak French, and tried to use one of their teachers as a translator, even after I demonstrated quite pointedly that I did understand everything that they were saying. There were several other amusing misunderstandings and anecdotes-- everyone thought I was from Mexico at first, and they complimented me on my English and asked why I didn't join the Spanish-speaking table. After that was cleared up, they asked a lot of the questions I commonly get-- what's the name of your city again? More slowly? No, I haven't heard of it; it's not your accent... So do they really have yellow school buses over there? Did you vote for Obama or McCain? Can you really drive at sixteen there? Can I see your license? (They thought my license was really cool). Do you really have the right to bear arms? Do you have a gun? You don't? Why not? (the last three are new; actually-- I'd been asked about the right to bear arms before, but not if I owned a gun). What else...There was one guy there that wanted to move to New York for the night clubs (I wished him luck on all his future endeavors)... and everyone was shocked when they noticed on my driver's license that I'm only sixteen. They all said I looked more like eighteen or nineteen. But that still doesn't explain why I've been served alcohol with no ID check (and without asking me if I wanted it, for that matter) in New Mexico. 

In any case, it was a fun afternoon. And one of the students (not the AFS ones, from the technical school) brought some of the best tiramisu I've ever tasted. Definitely worth going; I had a great time.

Then there was Theater in the afternoon, I came home at five, as usual, and...that was my day, more or less. 

Wednesday:

I got back my results for the Bac Blancs for science: 12 in Biology, 15,5 in Physics. I was very happy with the Physics result; Biology could have gone better, but for a first try and with absolutely no grace points for vocabulary it's not half bad (it's about a B on the American system). French was cancelled again because of the oral exams, so I went to Auchan (the supermarket just around the corner) with Armand and a few other friends (because, along with Uno, it's just what you do when you have a free period), and I received the best compliment I could possibly receive: they asked me if I was coming back to spend Terminale (senior year) with them, and were disappointed when I said no. I was really touched, and realised just how much I'm going to miss them all when I go home. I really stumbled upon the best class I possibly could have; in three months I've gone from a complete stranger to completely part of the group. Amazing how fast this is all passing; I'm already halfway through...

And that evening, I finally made it over to dinner at Amalia's house. She invited me over way back in February, but neither of us had the time until just last week. It was really nice-- we had raclette (everyone wants to be the first to introduce me to raclette, it seems, but all of them missed the mark by about four years-- I had it in Switzerland when I was twelve), and for dessert there was a lovely, rich little cake called 'nid de Paques' (Easter nest), so named for the pattern of frosting on the top. Amalia's family was really nice; they invited to take me out to one of the famous chateaux in the area on Easter, which I gladly accepted. For having been here for three months, I haven't had any time to go to any of the local chateaux, so I was happy for the offer. After dinner, I showed them all some pictures of New Mexico icons-- the Balloon Fiesta, the Sandias, the petroglyphs, roadrunners, coyotes, tumbleweeds-- and then I introduced Amalia to some of my favorite music. She liked Tori Amos's soft piano stuff, loved Iron and Wine, and was underwhelmed by the Decemberists. Two out of three-- not bad. And then I went home and went to bed, after some last-minute review for the oral exam the next day.

Thursday:

After a disastrous morning of volleyball, I showed up ten minutes early for the exam since I nearly ran there out of sheer nerves (of being late and of the exam itself). My theme was to explain the vision of Paris Paul Eluard presents in his poem 'Courage.' Luckily, I didn't blank from stress (unlike the poor kid who was taking his exam ahead of me), and I managed to get a good plan written out with time to go back and detail it before my time was up. I stuttered a little on the presentation of my analysis and repeated myself probably more than I should have, but overall it went okay. I forgot the verb for 'to overcome' and ended up saying something really stupid like, 'chase out of the city,' but he got my meaning. The interview, though, could have gone better in my opinion: I was so focused on Eluard that I completely blanked on the names of his contemporaries, as well as other surrealist poets of the era. Since I couldn't come up with any names, the examiner asked for American poets that are politically engaged. When he hadn't heard of any of the ones I managed to come up with, he asked for singers in the '60's instead. Not only did I manage to name singers that were everything -but- American, I mixed up Joni Mitchell and Joan Baez, and had to be prompted on Bob Dylan's name ("What I was really looking for was a folk singer with a guitar and a harmonic- " "DYLAN!"). My uncle, if he hasn't already, will probably disown me. But I got 7/10 for the first half and 7/10 for the second for a total of 14-- about the equivalent of an A-. Not half bad, for presenting in my second language.

And the rest of the day...must not have been terribly memorable. Last English class of the week, and last class of the week, where I sketched out an idea for a book of prose poems that's been sitting on the back burner in my mind for a while while the rest of the class did grammar and comprehension exercises (I helped with vocabulary, when people asked). And that was it for school.

The evening was quiet; we had a fabulous dessert called 'pain perdu,' a ridiculously sugary concoction made from stale bread. You mix up eggs, milk, flour and sugar in a bowl, dip pieces of stale bread in, and then toast them in a buttered frying pan and serve with powdered sugar, Nutella, or jam on top. It actually tasted quite a lot like French toast in the end; probably it's where the recipe comes from. The preparation was just a lot simpler. I've been writing down all the little recipes like this in a little notebook; by the end, I expect it'll be full...

Friday:

I had the day off since all my classes but one were cancelled because of the oral exams: Spanish, French, Theater, no ECJS because it's the off week, so there was only one hour of English, which wasn't really worth it for me to go. So I passed the day pleasantly and quietly: I slept in, watched the pirate drama unfold on TV, went into town and bought chocolate for my host family for Easter, a few books in English for myself, and helped Catherine out in the garden by pulling weeds. It's really beautiful now that it's spring and that it's rained these past couple of days-- I'll take some more recent pictures to post. Oh, and Camille came back and we had wonderful conversations like we usually do. Her internship is going pretty well so far; it seems she's still getting hang of the system of organization over there, but that it's starting promisingly and she enjoys it well enough. So I'm happy about that, even if it means she's only here on the weekends. 

Saturday:

Not a whole lot. In the morning we had a Friends marathon in our pajamas; all of their voices are rather strange in French for me, but Joey's bothered me more than anyone else. I can't even explain why exactly, but I couldn't (and still can't) get over how weird it was. Later I made chocolate cake from Camille's recipe, which turned out very nicely; I now have two good ones to bring back to the US.  I ended sixteen years of deprivation and watched 'The Nightmare Before Christmas,' which I adored. I like most things by Tim Burton, though, so I'm not surprised I liked this. The reason I ended up watching it was because Lea's English teacher quit unexpectedly, so she won't have any English classes until after Easter break (it wasn't worth it to find another one for the last week before the break). Camille didn't want her to lose her English in that time, so she asked me to watch the movie with Lea and her friend Chloe (who happened to be over that night, was in the same predicament, and anyway needed to be amused) in English with French subtitles. The two of them had already seen it in French and were annoyed that the meter to the songs is different in French, so they couldn't sing along. And they thought it was strange how the voices were different. Funny how these reversals happen, isn't it? 

Sunday:

The morning was somewhat stressful-- everyone was in a hurry to clean everything and no one was satisfied with the way anyone else was doing it. After doing what I could, I quietly excused myself and walked down to the butcher's to get some eggs to make cake that afternoon (yes, again. Different recipe. And it turned out deliciously). Florian and Cristelle arrived around one, and we had an egg hunt with Thais. I ate my lunch as quickly as I could while everyone else lingered over the appetizers in order to finish in time to head out to Chenonceau with Amalia and her family. I felt embarrassed about leaving in the middle of the meal; when I asked Catherine on Wednesday night, we had nothing planned for Easter, so I didn't foresee that I'd be interrupting anything. It wasn't until Saturday that Florian and Cristelle confirmed they were coming. But in any case, I guess there's worse I could have done.

The chateau was beautiful-- from the front, it doesn't look like anything truly spectacular, but once you see it from the side you notice that it's actually a bridge that completely spans the Cher. During WWI it was used as a hospital for wounded soldiers. It was interesting to see the mix of history. And I fell in love with the kitchens (especially the gigantic rack of cake molds) and decided that we need to redo the one at my house in New Mexico exactly like them. Or I'll keep the idea for when I'm famous and retire to Taos. One or the other. But if we do it now, I can become a master baker and open up a French bakery in Albuquerque that will absolutely steal all the business of the one in Santa Fe...

Ahem. In any case.

After the chateau visit, we went out to Amboise, where my camera died, unfortunately, and I saw the house where Leonardo da Vinci died. We didn't go in or visit the chateau (no time), but it was lovely even from the outside. We also saw some of the famous 'maisons troglodytes'-- houses carved out of natural caves in the rock, which were really interesting. They made me think of the earthships a bit, the way they blend so well into the landscape. I'll have find my way back there, with my camera. Someday, I'm sure, I will.

We got Nutella crepes as well, since it was a special occasion (not that I wait for special occasions to have Nutella crepes, but...), and at the stand I saw a 5-kilo jar of Nutella. I'm serious. I almost regretted not having my camera for that more than for not having it for da Vinci's house. And after that, we went home. I fell asleep in the car on the way back, which I only mention for being extraordinary because I -never- sleep during the day. At home I took some pictures of myself with the gigantic dark chocolate egg that Catherine, Camille and Lea gave me for Easter, and...that was it.

Monday:

Another quiet day. In the morning we went grocery shopping because the supermarket offers 10 euros credit for 60 euros' worth of purchase on Easter Monday. Camille and I ended up getting separated from Catherine and Lea, and we searched for each other for about half an hour before we finally found each other and, in rather more irritable spirits, went home. During the afternoon I procrastinated on a History assignment and made chocolate chip cookies with Camille. We found a really good recipe on a French website that I'll have to bring back for my dad. On my suggestion, we added walnuts, which made them even better. We burnt the first batch, but the second two turned out fine, so we had plenty for the snack, dinner, and for Camille to take to her internship the next day.

To show I was really desperate to procrastinate further, I asked to be taken around to sell some more tickets, and managed to sell another five. So now I only need to buy back between 5 and 25 (depending on whether the teacher lets the second packet of tickets drop or if he wants me to pay that one, too), but still with a max of only 50 euro extra. London for 99 euros-- still a bargain in my book.

Finally, after stressing myself nearly to the point of madness, I managed to finish my assignment at around ten that evening, which was why I was in no mood to write the blog yesterday. I went to bed around one in the morning and fell asleep around two after another fascinating conversation with Camille-- it started by being about my cousins, and ended about being about racism against Hispanic and Middle-Eastern people, with some things about the politics of religion, homosexuality, and birth control in the middle. It was fun. I feel bad for keeping Camille up so late, though-- I know I wouldn't have fallen asleep until around then anyway (I haven't fallen asleep earlier than midnight for at least the past week), but Camille had work today, so I hope that things weren't too difficult today. In the future, I'll watch the clock more carefully...

Tuesday:

Like most Tuesdays, this one was very long and tiresome, since it's seven hours of classes with lunch being the only break. But I'll detail it nonetheless, since I have time and I've received complaints from at least one of my readers that I never seem to be doing anything on Tuesdays. The morning went okay-- it did turn out that the History assignment that I stressed so much over was collected, so at least it was somewhat worth the effort (we'll see how many points it's worth). We focused more on the fine points of totalitarianism and the distinguishing features of various regimes (fascism vs Nazism vs Stalinism, things like that). In French, we finished up Le Rouge et le Noir, which I'm very relieved about, and received our next reading assignment, which I listened very carefully to and made sure I wrote in giant letters in my planner to read during the break. 'W, or le souvenir d'enfance' (W, or the memory of childhood). Georges Perec. I haven't heard of it, but it looks interesting. It's half an autobiography, half a novel. Literally. It's two books in one. It'll change things up, at least. Oh, and everyone else got back their grades for the oral exam-- I had about the third-highest grade in the class, at least from what I could tell from the people I talked to. I'm pretty pleased with myself, overall.

And then there was lunch, which wasn't brilliant, and in the extra few minutes before Drama I reviewed my lines and hung out with everyone else. Drama itself went okay-- I'm excited to have an actual character in one of the scenes that we're doing. We're doing scenes from four different plays by Philippe Minyana: Voila, Inventaires, Chambres, and...the last one I forget. I'm in the first two and the one that I forgot, but in the one I forgot I don't speak (I just arrange things in the background and push a squeaky wheeled cart during the awkward pauses), in Inventaires I'm a TV host, so technically that's a character and a speaking part, but I'll give you literally all my lines right here: Bonsoir, je m'appelle Eve, nous recevons ce soir Jacqueline, Angele et Barbara. Merci, mesdames, merci, merci beaucoup. In Voila, I have more lines (still the fewest of the characters in the scene, but more than 'merci'), and my character's name is Nelly. The play is basically a collection of banal conversations, that twist unexpectedly (sometimes they go off on unexpectedly philosophical tangents, or, on the other hand, I get to announce quite loudly that I slept with another one of the characters in the scene, after proclaiming my love for another one). It's fun; I'm enjoying myself a lot. And learning a lot of new vocabulary (coughing fit, for example). 

And...yes. I finished at four, took the bus into town, picked up my book to read during spring break, wrote my blog. That was my Tuesday. I guess I do more with them than I thought.

'Til next week; I'm not exactly sure when I'll update next. In Paris, most likely, the day after I get in. I'm looking forward very much to a two-week break (but then again, who doesn't?), but before I can get around to that there's still a fairly sizable assignment for Drama I need to finish, so I'll get to that right now. I've learned my lesson about procrastination this time. Really.

Oh, and Catherine just walked in the door and evidently she managed to sell some of the tickets for me this morning, which is really sweet-- I didn't even ask her to. So now I only have to buy back between 2 and 22. Cool. 

Ok, so the real end, now. Ciao! 

We interrupt this program...

The blog is going to be late this week.

I apologize.

Explanations (and the entry) will come tomorrow. But it's not serious. I'm just an idiot and procrastinate way too much.

'Til then.

Another week, this time with extra sugar

Hey, look, I'm actually updating on Sunday for once...I think it's been at least a month since the last time I actually updated the day I mean to...

Without further ado, I'll take the miracle as it comes and go straight into things:

Tuesday:

This Tuesday was, unfortunately, no more memorable than the last. Apologies.

Wednesday:

After school I met up with Fanny for lunch. I got slightly lost on the way to her school, but luckily I managed to find it okay. She showed me to this beautiful little restaurant just off of Place Plumereau which was amazingly good and amazingly cheap. We both got this delicious pasta dish made with a house-made pesto with almonds and a spice I'm forgetting on top for six euros. For comparison, I've found kebab places that sell a panini, fries, and a beverage for six euros. It was a steal. I think I might just be making that my Wednesday lunch stop from now on... We also shared a pichet of Chinon, which was lovely, and finished off with chocolate mousse and warm berry crumble (we split in half and shared). Yes. I'll definitely be going back there.

After that, we walked around town randomly for a bit, and ended up visiting a museum of craftsmanship run by some Masonic order (the emblem was everywhere).  It was pretty interesting; there were shoes of all different sizes (mouse to giant), model chateaux made of everything from horseshoes to sugar, and various other pieces of artwork. It was interesting, in any case. 

After that, we sat by the river for a while before going back to catch our buses. Unfortunately, I missed mine, so I wasted a half hour and bought myself a pain au chocolat aux amandes since I knew I wouldn't have time to eat at home-- we went to the opera that evening as a class, and since I missed my first bus that left me five minutes in between the arrival of the second and the departure of the one I was taking with Susan to get there. So once I got back, I sprinted up to the house, where a woman was waiting in front of the door looking for Catherine, who wasn't back from work yet. So I told her that I didn't have the time to help her but gave her Catherine's cell, which evidently was the mystery of the evening and got Camille into trouble a bit because no one realised that I had ever come home, so it was assumed that Camille had given her the number and had just forgotten about it. (She was coming by to see if Catherine would do yard work for her; Catherine already has a full schedule and isn't accepting new clients) I dropped off my backpack, grabbed a few biscuits and then sprinted back to the bus stop again, where I waited literally thirty seconds before the bus arrived. Kind of stressful. Just a bit.

The opera was nice enough; however, it got long towards the end, and the singers were exhausted from the rehearsals and so weren't singing as strongly as they could have. I think I preferred the first, but all the same, I'm glad that I had the opportunity to go.

Thursday:

There was school, which was a math and PE day. I utterly cannot play volleyball, and that's all that needs to be said for the morning. In the afternoon we threw a surprise birthday party for our English teacher, which was fun; I was designated the one who waited in the classroom and made sure she didn't leave to look for us while everyone met up and prepared everything. It was great-- we listened to Michael Jackson and Frank Sinatra and had way too much sugar. I made Rice Krispie Treats, since it's now become my personal mission to introduce the French to them, and when Mme. Juigner saw them she was thrilled-- she went so far as to tell me it was like Proust's madeleine for her. Evidently her father had a job at Stanford when she was in kindergarten, so she went to elementary school in the US. At the cafeteria there, she has happy memories of such treats as peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches, mini-hot dogs and Rice Krispie Treats, so it was a sort of blast from the past for her. I wrote down the recipe so that she can make them with her daughter. I was happy that I could do something nice for her, since she and her class have made my experience at Lycee Vaucanson that much richer and more enjoyable.

In the evening, we went to the theater. I think it's my favorite of the plays we've seen thus far. The title was 'Le 20 novembre' (I shouldn't need to translate, I think), and recounted the final hour of a teenage boy planning a school shooting. It was an amazingly intense piece: it was a monologue, and the actress was incredibly talented. She really engaged the audience, asking them questions, looking them straight in the eye (her gaze was impossible to hold. When she looked at me, I couldn't)...the set-up helped with this: the audience was seated in a semicircle on the stage (the normal seating was closed off), and so she could move around and get really close to the people present. Extremely intense, disturbing, and fascinating. Afterwards she had a Q&A session with the audience and detailed some of her reasons for deciding to play this piece, her background as an actress, etc...She's German in origin, and she mentioned that when she puts on this piece in Germany, it can last up to ten minutes longer at the end because the audience will talk with her (the last line is, 'Do any of you have anything to say? Some commentary you wish to make...?'). In France, though, no one ever says anything. It made me want to see the piece played in the US, to see how the audience would react there...I could already see vast differences in my perspective in comparison to the French students. There has never been a school shooting in France (in Germany there have been a couple, however). I had another great conversation with Susan directly after... I bought the text of the monologue, because it made me want to react, write something in response. Tear it apart. Critique it. Poeticize it. Transform it. Something. I haven't figured out what exactly yet, but it's waiting on my bedside table for when I figure it out.

Friday:

The morning didn't start out brilliantly-- I didn't get to bed until two in the morning the night before (insomnia. It happens), and then for some reason neither my alarm nor Catherine's went off, so I got up ten minutes before I had to leave. Not only did I not get a shower, I didn't even get to wash my face or brush my teeth because the water was shut off (they were doing work down the street), so I ran out the door smelling and looking terrible, running on five hours' sleep and not happy with life in general...But luckily, the grumpiness manifested itself as a drawing inwards, falling-asleep-at-the-desk kind rather than a snappish kind, so mostly people looked at me and said, "Mais Angela, tu as l'air vachement fatiguee!" My general response was along the lines of, "Yeah... I think I've been tired since I was born, basically."

See, I have a sense of humor. Twisted, but I have one.

So, yeah. There was school, where classes and a lot of I-should-be-working-but-I'm-playing-Uno-instead-because-I-can't-concentrate-for-being-tired during the free periods happened. 

Last bus story of the week: since English got out early, I managed to get to the bus stop and barely make an earlier bus into town to catch the 52 to Mettray. Normally I take the 5:55 bus in town to get home, but there's also one at 5:20 that I usually miss because I take a later 8 into town that doesn't get in until about 5:30. But since I got the earlier one and there was traffic that prevented the 5:20 from leaving, I managed to catch it by sprinting off of the 8 and just got it while it was stopped at the light just before it turned green. My closest yet-- ten seconds at the most. I'm starting to get the hang of public transport, I think. It'll be a disappointment going back to cars.

In the evening, Sandrine (a friend who goes to a different school) came over for help with her English. They're studying Shakespeare (I know, I was like, what? too), and so I corrected a few pieces she'd written and then helped her with comprehension of the passage. The balcony scene. I failed to find a good translation for the word 'prorogued,' though, so I ended up just paraphrasing the whole line ("My life were better ended by their hate/ Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love"). I also recited the prologue, which I only half-remembered (up until "Whose misadventured piteous overthrows/ Do, with their death, do bury their parents' strife.") It was fun, I enjoyed myself. And then we spent until midnight with Camille looking up crazy clips on YouTube, the best of which was Remi Kart:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MytfhzcSF-Y

Enjoy.

Saturday:

Not much. I got up late, and in the afternoon Camille took me around to some of her old neighbors' houses to sell some of my mysterious raffle tickets. Nine down, thirty-one to go. If all else fails, I'll buy the rest myself. I only had to pay fifty euros for the trip, really nothing compared to what I'd have to pay in the US; marking it up another sixty wouldn't be that bad. Think about it, London for a week for only 110 euros? Definitely worth it. 

Apart from that...I called my parents...and... that was it.

Sunday:

A friend of Catherine's took me to the Easter brunch meeting of Tours's France-Etats-Unis organisation. It was a pleasant morning; it was the first time in a while I've had muffins or pancakes (classic-style, with maple syrup; Laurene made chocolate ones on Thursday for the surprise party which were really good, but not quite the same thing), and whoever made them made them quite well. Along with the food there was a poetry reading, in French and English. The woman wrote quite beautifully in French, but when she tried to recite in English...oh, lord. I don't find accents funny anymore, because I know how hard it is, but even so, I was biting my tongue. She tried to recite 'Imagine' as a poem, but the accent was just...I didn't even realise it was supposed to be 'Imagine' until two verses in, it was that bad. But in return I embarrassed myself by reading 'The Trolley Song,' without knowing the tune (I was pushed to the stage and she just put the paper in my hands, so I didn't have much choice), so fair's fair.

After that, there was a photo exhibition of national parks in the western US, where again I was biting my tongue. Despite the fact that all the photos were labeled and the man giving the presentation had been on the trip with the photographer who took the photos, he kept saying the pictures were from drastically different places...for example, he tried to put Joshua Tree in Arizona (it's in California), Chaco Canyon in Colorado (Good old NM), and even had some pictures Jasper-Banff, which is in Canada. He wouldn't believe me when I tried to correct him, though, despite the fact that I live in the western US...

After that, Catherine's friends showed me their photos and videos of Florida, which mostly consisted of Cypress Park in Orlando. The thing I found most interesting: during the video, they kept smiling and making comments like, "For us, this is America," and "I think we saw the essential." Whereas I found that they had mostly pictures of the kitsch and glitz that I absolutely detest in Florida. I just sort of smiled and nodded and kept myself from saying, "Yeah, baguettes and the Eiffel Tower: for me, that's France."

I also found it interesting that for how much they proclaimed to love the US, they had absolutely no interest in talking to me about where I live.

After the videos, they took me to the movies. It wasn't my type of film but it wasn't terrible either and I could tell that their daughter really loved it, so I didn't mind going. Their daughter was really nice and I liked her quite a bit; she has Down Syndrome, but she's really quite sweet and she was the only one that was really interested in me. She asked me really cute things like if I liked chocolate or if I was planning to have kids someday. And she didn't freak out about whether or not I understood her, which was better than her mother. It was really strange: her mother would ask me if I understood something, and regardless of whether I said yes or no, she would go ahead and re-explain it anyway. I think she re-hashed the movie plot for me no less than three times, despite the fact that I said that I understood it the first time she asked. And I will always ask and did ask a few times with her when I didn't understand something, so it shouldn't be that she thought that I was trying to cover up that I didn't understand.

Oh, and later at dinner, three different people tried to tell me that you pronounce the 'l' in half. And they were still suspicious and barely conceded that I was right in the end. I kept wanting to ask, who's the native English-speaker here?

I don't know. It was an interesting day. I know that they meant well and I think they were all quite sweet and generous to have taken me around, but all the same... It's just been very busy and hectic and I'm starting to feel a bit of the mal du pays, with two weeks left before spring break and an hour-long oral exam on Thursday (yep, analysing French literature on the spot in my second language-- fun!). But I think there are ups and downs and if this is the down then I'm happy to take it. It could be much worse. And I'm optimistic that this week will be better, despite that exam-- for one thing, I have seven hours fewer of class since all the French classes have been cancelled to make room for the exam, so that's already quite the treat. And who knows, maybe something spectacular will happen. Nothing on the horizon, but we'll see. You never know.

'Til the next!