Things I Can't Wait to Do:

-take a real shower
-shave my legs
-stand in front of my closet and choose something to wear
-hug my mom, my grandmother, and everyone else too
-have a Peet's iced coffee
-get a manicure
-lay on a couch
-snuggle-I'm such a chick!
-roll around in a bed that's wider than a matchbox
-read whatever book I please
-eat American food
-eat pizza
-eat something with siracha on it
-do laundry
-make phonecalls and not stress about how much they cost
-work! work! work!
-write from a removed perspective
-talk to Prof. Otten
-hang out with people and have meaningful conversations
-take Jemima for a walk
-catch up on TopChef
-hve a REAL cocktail
-go to Cornwalls just for kicks
-drop into ES unannounced!

Dimanche Part II

Once again, it is Sunday in France. I missed breakfast at the hostel, of course, because my iPhone was still out of commission. So for breakfast I had chocolate cookies and Fanta (it's like staying over at Dad's again!). Then I tried charging my phone, just in case, and voilà! It works again. I swear there is something terribly demonic about this iPhone. As soon as I get back it is going in a cell phone graveyard somewhere. Anyway, I showered and dressed and set out for the town. I was really hoping the English bookstore would be open, but of course it was not. So I acquired an espresso elsezhere, killed some time people watching, and went about discovering. I found a church with some Benedictine tombs which was pretty cool and also quite eery. I also found an outdoor market with cheese and spices and what not on display. It made me long for a kitchen to cook in; as all of you know, I have absolutely no affinity for cooking. I somehow, accidentally, made it back to the place in which I started. I tried to go to the internet cafe - closed. Found another bookstore - closed.
By some stroke of genius, I had the idea of checking to see if the cinema was open. It was and the next film was in an hour. I walked to cours de Mirabeau and had a beer and waited. I went back to the cinema, bought a ticket, and found a seat without incident. Once the film began, however, I realized that I will, indeed, always be an idiot. The film was in German with French subtitles. I knew that seeing a film in French zould be challenging. This scenario was one I was ill-equipped for. I'm not really quite sure what happened in the film. In between reading/deciphering French subtitles, hearing familiar German words, and trying to actually WATCH the movie, I got very, very lost. So lost, in fact, that when the film ended, I was shocked.
Something interesting about theatres in here is that they don't have popcorn. They also don't sell tubs of coke or rip you off too much. There was one trailer to the film, which was in English. The didn't have a giant candy bar dancing around reminding you to shut your cell phone off. People in France already know such common facts of life. Also, people actually sit next to each other. I mean - parties who do not know each other sit next to each other. They don't leave the one seat elbow room like Americans.
Although I gleaned absolutely nothing from the film, the experience was overall enriching. I'm having a farewell Chouffe at the pub and then heading back to the hostel. Tomorrow, I'm going to Marseille for some authentic bouillibaise, catcalls, and palm trees. Soon I'll be bidding au revoir to Provence and journey to Julien's hometown of Annecy. Then the countdown to Boston begins!!!

Black Coffee

Hi Friends!!

So I'm back in France after a brief jaunt to Spain, and the coffee here is much better. I'm going to brief but here are a few things about the south of France, more specifically Aix-en-Provence:

People are not very nice.
It rains a lot.
Le Mistral is worse in person than it is in theory.
The food rocks.
I found a bookstore with books in English (seriously how many times can you read Atlas Shrugged?).
Boys are not that cute.
Hostel BLOWS. I don't even have a power outlet in my room. I think that must be against some kind of law.
Wine is tasty. Nice restaurants.
Found a bar with good beer... which I was beginning to think was hopeless (La Chouffe!!!!).
Buses stop running at 10... isn't this a college town??
Nice landscape.
Lots of Art. Lots.

So last night I had a truly wonderful dinner at Le Petit Verdot. I had a foie gras pate which was amazing to start. I then had a take on blood pudding 'shepard's pie' which knocked my socks off. Dinner was very rich so I didn't have dessert but they offered me a delicious grappa digestif which I truly appreciated because I thought I might burst at the seams. I had a kir to start and two glasses of syrah from the local area. Yum.

Okay, I'm going to go explore around some more and head to the Cezanne musuem after lunch!
Missin Boston like crazy...

corkdork

thinking

What is incalculable greatness? What is incalculable?
What is the cost of unabdicated resolution? What trepidation must one ignore?
How does one understand that there are many means to an end, so long as that end is never defeat? That the victory of spirit is the only true victory in the world?
What are the means to unprotracted victory? Which road does one take? Which crucial decisions must be made?
How much weight can fall on one man's shoulders? How can one man carry such weight without stumbling?
Who measures the value of a life? How is it evaluated? Under what pretenses? Who tallies the score?
Is one judged on their convictions and ideals? Or the consequences? Or does one live because there are things such as consequences for ideals?
What does it matter if a song goes unsung, letters unwritten, retribution unpaid, justice unserved?
What mark can one person make on the world? What smear on an imperfect painting?
How does one ignite a silent revolution above the din of a dark world?

There is but one man I would like to ask these questions of. Questions that too often go unanswered, unthought, ignored. There are people among us who would not, could not, let such an injustice occur. Men of consideration, endurance, and brillliance. Men who operate strictly for the invocation of the right to operate. The right to think freely. To draw conclusions from these thoughts. To put these conclusions into action. To fight for the right to continue to take action.
These are men of undisputed courage and valor. These are men too few in the world, growing fewer by the moment as they slowly die away, succumbing to a land of greater pragmatism. #
These are men we all strive to be and rarely achieve. The men that give us hope when there is none.
With the grace that is within us, however difficult it is to conjure, we must stop to silently thank them, to honr them in the only faculty they acknowledge, our minds.

Language Barrier

It may be the most frustrating thing in the entire world to kind of speak three foreign languages. It basically gives people the impression that you can speak their language when in all actuality you can not. It also makes scanning your brain for the right word next to impossible as the word in a different language inevitably presents itself and then your brain becomes so fixated on that word and that language that it can not recover. There have been moments when I've had to speak Spanish or Italian to circumvent the fact that I don't speak French. It is incredibly taxing.
To that end, I've decided to go to Spain tomorrow. When I leave here I am going straight to the train station to purchase my ticket... I already booked my sleeping arrangements. I wanted to stay in Lyon a bit longer but the weather turned frigid today very unexpectedly so I think I will head further south. After two days in Barcelona I will go to Avignon in time for my appointment and finish my travels by meandering through Provence and finally to Switzerland.
I miss everyone very much and hope all is well back home. I also want to note that I have officially stopped having what I affectionately call wait-mares... or waitressing nightmares. Thank God!!

corkdork

Who is John Galt?

So I already told you about the best way to meet French people, and I followed my own advice the other day and quite an amazing thing happened. Yesterday, I went to meet my new friend Xavier in Beaune. He doesn't speak English and I don't speak French so it was destined to be a spectacular and awkward day. I was in my element, to say the least. We had about five billion espressos and when I was so jacked up that I was actually scared that he would offer me another espresso and that I would have to accept out of sheer politeness, he said 'Allez' (let's go)... I almost fainted out of excitement. During or all-too-long coffee, I learned that Xavier is a cooper (barrel maker). He took me to the Musee de Vin and explained to me all about wine making and barrel making. And of course by 'he explained' I mean that I nodded along and said an awful lot of 'Oui, Oui' while drawing my own conclusions.
After that he took me south of Beaune to a little village called La Rochepot where we had a delictable lunch (I had Boeufe Bourgignon) with a bottle of Santenay 1er Cru. Following lunch we wizzed up to the chateau and had a brief tour. We climbed to the top of the tower and I wanted to cry a little bit because the view of Burgundy was so beautiful. I felt kind of weird because there are quite a few people I would rather have shared that experience with. On the other hand, I never would have been there without the help of my trusty new companion. The more you know, the more you realize that you don't know anything.
We departed from the chateau and stopped off at Xavier's house where he bestowed two gifts upon me- a bottle of Creme de Cassis and a bottle of 1984 Corton Rouge. He really wanted to give me a bottle from the year I was born (which he indicated by saying 'La maman' and holding his hands in front of his belly as if he were pregnant) but apparently it was one of his favorite vintages and he drank it all. We grabbed a bottle of 1993 Corton Rouge and headed back to Beaune. I was desperate for a degustation so we ambled into the caves and tasted a million bottles of wine for 10euro. I win!
We viewed the Hospice de Beaune after that... followed by a little Corton Rouge. I insisted that we have a drink at the pub where we met and it was actually quite fun. All of the old guys there were transfixed by the sight of a young American woman so I played the part as much as possible. I may or may not have been loud, slightly obnoxious, and terribly witty. I bought them each a scratch ticket and insisted that they scratch them with American coins. They saw my passport in my bag and asked to see it, which I obliged. They really got a kick out of the fact that everything is also written in French. However amusing it was, it was also a bit sad. I realized that none of these people of varying ages and faculties had ever left France, or Beaune for that matter, and probably never would. That made my journey feel all the more important to me and I resolved to try to enjoy myself more in my surroundings.
Who is John Galt?

Dimanche

Sundays in France are not awesome when you don't have a kitchen to cook in, a couch to lay on, or friends to have fun with. Sundays in France would be awesome if you work too much, have a lot of friends, or a great outcropping of family. Nothing is open. Everyone is home. The streets radiate with an almost eerie silence. So I wandered around aimlessly until some things opened around 2pm. I think I may see a movie after this. Last night was kind of crappy because I had to wait almost an hour for my bus, check into a new room, only to be woken up at 6am when one of the girls got home. Apparently her friend drank way too much and ended up in the hospital. I gathered all of this because she proceeded to very indiscreetly tell her other friend the entire story. Not cool. So I tried to very loudly toss around in my bed. Very loudly get up to pee. Very loudly sigh... they still didn't get the point. Finally, when the first waves of sleep returned to me, someone's phone rang. So much for having a restful night.

In lighter and more exciting news, tomorrow I am going to Beaune in the morning to meet a man whose very French name I forget. He is going to take me around to some vineyards and host a degustation (tasting). We can barely communicate with each other which is kind of cool, kind of frustrating. It forces me to speak French and to say 'je ne sais pas' all the time. The day after that, Tuesday, I am leaving for Lyon and hoping for better weather. I can't wait to go south and hopefully fit in a brief jaunt to Spain. If I do, I will officially see four countries during my travels- France, Spain, Switzerland, and a layover in Germany but I'm counting it anyway.

I've been hording some of my euro on the days that I am under budget so that I can get a haircut when I am in Lyon... I think it would be fun to have a Frenchie hairdo... And I also haven't cut my hair since March so it's about time. Lyon may be a bit of a struggle in terms of budget because it is unofficially the gastronomical capital of France. There may have to be a couple of luxurious dinners.

I also want to add, however irrelevently, that I hate this cybercafe place. It is way too expensive and the people are mean. I also think that the bitchy lady keeps shutting my time off early just so I have to pay another euro for 15 minutes of time to send the emails I wrote. Sometimes being really nice to people does not mean that they will be really nice back. Her loss, I suppose.