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| February of Fun France "Facts": Fin |
[Feb. 19th, 2008|09:39 pm] |
So, I've obviously fizzled on the "facts" of February front...but just because I've had little to say doesn't mean things haven't been good. These past few weeks, France has been better than it's ever been, and I'm enjoying being here immensely, every day. That said, I'm going...back to Ed for a week because...I don't really know why...but I'm excited about it nonetheless. Importantly, however, while I may be excited to go to Edinburgh, for perhaps the first time ever, I am not desperate to go. So, I'm travelling to Edinburgh on Thursday (via Nimes and Nottingham and it is going to take FOREVER because I choose to live in only the most inconveniently located European cities), and I'm going to shiver for a week, and then I'm going to come back to Montpellier (via London and Marseille which will also take approximately forever) the next Thursday at which point I hope it's very sunny and warm here. And it will all be excellent. And I will write about it, really. I enjoyed the "facts" of February while they lasted, and the France does not stop here; it is, however, going on hiatus for the rest of Feb. |
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| February of Fun France "Facts" Day 12: Reminiscences Part II |
[Feb. 12th, 2008|07:58 pm] |
This is the first day I was ever in France:
It was also the first good day I had in a European country. I also couldn't remember how to say "sorry", "excuse me", or "these are too small" in French. All of these things make me feel ineffably better about now. |
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| February of Fun France "Facts" Day 11: Losing Steam* |
[Feb. 11th, 2008|11:59 am] |
Posting every day is difficile even if I have got nearly five months of backlog to draw on. I'm afraid my "facts" are growing increasingly dull. Though, this may even qualify as an actual fact, which maybe compensates for something?
Fact: French trains are every kind of awesome. I have always had an affinity for train journeys, from the time when I was 14 and I used to have to beg my mom for the freedom to take the train into center city or New York, to the present. And in France, the trains are always an exciting surprise. Super fast (TGV), double decker, compartmentalized... the engineers of French trains must certainly have a lot of fun. In late October/early November, I went on a brief train expedition though Aix-en-Provence, Avignon, Lyon, and Grenoble, and it wouldn't be much of an exaggeration to say I was never on the same type of train twice.
( Obligatory photographic evidence. )
*I wrote this title before I had decided this entry would be about trains, so it's only a pun by accident. Does that mean it's allowed? Because puns are allowed in titles anyway? Probably not. I apologize. |
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| February of Fun France "Facts" day 10 |
[Feb. 10th, 2008|10:27 pm] |
This is in the square at the end of my street in September when the Rugby World Cup was being held in France, occasionally in Montpellier. They were having what I imagine was a "Styles of the World" fashion show, because I heard them bandying about the word "Ecosse" several times while I was at the cashpoint. A sucker for anything that goes down a runway, I investigated, arriving just in time for the pièce de résistance: this fabergé egg of a convertible "wedding dress". Who says the French are all fashionable and chic?
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| How the French Zoo Was So Dire It Taught Me to Feel Sympathetic Towards Animals I'd Normally Despise |
[Feb. 9th, 2008|11:55 pm] |
As it turns out, the Montpellier Zoo is one of the more depressing places at which one could hope to pass a few hours during an idle afternoon, and today, I had the great pleasure of spending my hangover there. To be fair, I don't recall having been to a zoo in at least a decade (and isn't it scary how I'm starting to reference life events in terms of DECADES? When I started this blog I could scarcely have done that...). So, it's possible that all zoos are rather bleak wastelands which make their patrons face the futility of their collective existence, while making them feel guilty about whatever small part they may play in the perpetuation of this torture, but that I had just forgotten about it. I mean, I guess that there is something fundamentally sinister about lining up to see an animal in a cage... But, actually, no. THIS zoo has to be worse than normal zoos. It was a veritable labyrinth composed of badly sign-posted, rocky, hilly, winding paths, in which the animals are nearly impossible to find. And, if you do happen to find any animals, they are either (1) somehow sickly or deformed, (2) one of a seemingly infinite variety of subtley different, yet entirely uninteresting species of goat, or (3) housed in the most desolate and compact of wire-fenced cages. This bear, for example, was a zoo highlight, and it spent the five minutes I observed it ramming against the fence in an attempt to escape, then eating what we thought was a rock, but which actually turned out to be a mouldy bit of baguette (and only the French would possibly think that feeding a baguette to a bear was a good idea...), and finally, poking dejectedly at the ditch you see in the top left bit of this photo.
( The Excitement of the French Zoo continues! ) |
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| February of Fun France "Facts" Day 8: Voyeurism Volume I |
[Feb. 8th, 2008|07:55 pm] |
In my French apartment, the windows are all, figuratively speaking, open; there are no substantial curtains or blinds. Covering my bedroom windows are only horrible, chintzy, transparent odes to privacy; even my door contains an insert of smoked glass. In the bathroom, there is a window (albeit high up, tiny, and generally obscured by steam) that is perpetually naked. So, in theory, my neighbours could be watching me any time I care to leave my lights on. And if Amelie or Mimi Parent is anything to go by, they're probably sitting outside with binoculars. Strangely, this is appeals to my vanity in such a way that it doesn't bother me nearly as much as it probably should.
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| February of Fun France "Facts" Day 7: Apropos of Yesterday |
[Feb. 7th, 2008|07:18 pm] |
It took a while for Montpellier to grow on me; when I first got here, I wasn't sure that I'd ever mange to understand it, let alone grow to love it. But I think I finally have; there have been inklings of it since November, but now, my love of things French has definitively reasserted itself. And, it has managed to surpass what, even recently, were growing feelings of incomprehension, annoyance, and general loathing for anything even vaguely Francophone. This shift was inevitable, really, as I love shiny things, even more so when their glow is understated. And, while, on cloudy days it seems nigh impossible to see Montpellier's glimmer through the inconvenience of shop hours, futile bureaucracy, leering urban nomad men, and dog shit-encrusted streets, when the sun is out, it is impossible to see anything but how Montpellier shines. And, how can I not love the winding labyrinths of streets lined with boutiques and cafés? Or, the ancient cathedrals, aqueducts, and walls from the moyen age? And the beautiful squares and parks, and (of course!) the 2 euro wine? These things exude shiny wonder, and I cannot help but love them a lot. Montpellier is not as striking, or as readily suited to my tastes as Edinburgh, but I love it all the more for having to have worked for that appreciation. Of course it helps that I now have reliable Internet access, that I know my way around, that I know more than one person... but today, I was walking home from Uni, there were street musicians playing, the sun was strong overhead, and I had to try my very hardest to keep from dancing home. New York used to inspire that kind of joy in me, when I couldn't stop giggling for sheer love of the place; Edinburgh did it all the time with its stunning sunsets and its pointy-roofed buildings. And now, in spite of all my apprehensions, Montpellier has done the same. If I can hate so many things about a place, harbour so many feelings of resentment toward it, and still, at the end of the proverbial day, want to dance home, it must be love...right? Maybe not life-long, so-called "true love," but certainly something at which I can look back with a sly, wistful smile with the knowledge that it taught me so much when it caught me unawares. Here's to semester two... |
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| February of Fun France "Facts" Day 6: Crazy Excellence |
[Feb. 6th, 2008|03:54 pm] |
Is it obvious that I wrote yesterday's Fun France "Fact" as a backdated after-thought when I stumbled in from Mardi Gras celebrations at 2:00 am? Because it should be; there was no way I was going to be in at 11:59 last night because I have an inappropriately strong (and well documented) love of Mardi Gras. It was nothing legendary, but a very nice night with friends and lots of shiny beads and pancakes (crepes and nutella and ice cream, yum!) and wine and beer, and eventually, Sambuca at the Australien. I am always asked to, but never quite know how to explain the American Mardi Gras tradition of beads and tit flashing, never having experienced it first hand. But, that will not stop me being festive and coercing everyone around me into donning too-shiny plastic jewelry with me. Oh, I do love Mardi Gras, even more so now that the Brits are around to insist we eat pancakes while we drink too much, wearing too many beads!
And today was very lovely as well, so sunny that beer and sidewalk cafés seemed the only conceivable options for afternoon activities. At the table behind us, sat the most surreal man. He was drinking Desperados, wearing a kerchief type garment around his neck, as well a other generally rugged and well-worn clothes. And he had a green parrot sitting on his shoulder the whole time, which, every once in a while, sneaked a sip of his tequila beer. We all thought it was quite excellent, because, wouldn't we dress up as pirates and drink Desperados if we happened to own parrots well-trained enough to sit on our shoulders all afternoon? But then, he then turned around and licked the parrot's tail, at which point we figured he was probably more crazy than excellent. |
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| February of Fun France "Facts" Day 4: Anti-cultural traditions |
[Feb. 4th, 2008|08:25 pm] |
When I first arrived in France, I was a bit homesick for anything Anglo, which, as a consequence of my suburban American upbringing, means anything mass-produced and bigger than it needs to be. And so, with these misplaced longings for massive chain stores and fast food, began the tradition of going to Odysseum at the end of the tram line to indulge in the comfort of Ikea, and McDonald's make-your-own McFlurries. I'm not sure what it is about France that brings out the McDonald's cravings in me. I think maybe it's a rebellion against the fact that you can write off many of France's confections as cultural activities, and doesn't that defeat the whole point of indulgence?
So, anyway, this morning, I did something monumentally stupid: I balanced my full-length mirror on top of a bunched up hoodie at the precarious edge of a swivel desk chair which was, of course, sitting on my most uneven and ancient tiled floor. And, surprise! That mirror broke. So, I had no choice but to venture to Ikea this afternoon to purchase a new one. And, once I was at Ikea, there was no choice but to go to McDonald's for McFlurries because the tradition had been established, and also because they're delicious. At McDonald's the usual crowd of chavvy young Frenchies were hanging around, causing trouble for the lonely McDonald's security guard, begging everyone else for some phone credit so they could gather more of their friends to hang out at the ever-cool MacDo. And, of course, why wouldn't you want to hang out at McDonald's when they're still playing Christmas muzak in February? I, apparently, cannot get enough of it, anyway. |
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| February of Fun France "Facts" Day 3: Reminiscences |
[Feb. 3rd, 2008|03:50 pm] |
This is a Wednesday night in late September. It is the night that we discover "ERASMUS" (i.e.: cheap booze) night at what is now my favourite Montpellier bar, Bar Huit. I like it because it's shiny, it has cute bartenders, and it plays just the brand of English music which makes me smile, and when I'm drunk enough, sing along.
On that first night there, we had the dubious pleasure of meeting "Collins", a long-time Scottish expat. He's that leathery looking fellow behind me on the right in this photo:
"Collins" kept eavesdropping on our conversations and inserting himself into them where he saw fit. He spoke to us only in Franglais, even though he insisted we speak English whenever we slipped in a bit of French. As it turns out, he hailed from Wick, a place which, not a month earlier, while on my Hitchhiker/birthday tour, I had learned first hand is one of the most northerly, industrial, and depressing places in all of Scotland.
( Photographic Evidence )
As a result of the aforementioned student night, my friend Katie and I drank several bottles of wine between two of us and became rather drunk. "Collins" took this opportunity to invite us back to his house to drink whiskey and champagane, an invitation which we refused most vociferously, because even when severely drunk, going home with a strange leather-skinned man does not sound like a good idea, and being drunk, we told him so explicitly. So, he felt the need to clarify his intentions: "I do not want to fuck, I would just like for you to come to my maison." Needless to say, we ran away from "Collins" and Bar Huit that night giggling incessantly, and to this day that phrase is still amoungst the most infamous things that can possibly be said in Franglais, and it is repeated constantly. |
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| February of Fun France "Facts" Day 2: Triumph |
[Feb. 2nd, 2008|07:59 pm] |
Today, for a few brief minutes in the afternoon, France was perfect. The sky was clear; the sun was bright enough for complete warmth, but the air was still crisp and cool. There was a full brass band playing triumphant music into the streets, and the January sales were still on. There were just the right amount of things I wanted left in my size, cheap enough that I didn't have to feel horribly guilty about purchasing them. Then, I went for a walk up to the Peyrou, and had a stroll around the Arc de Triomphe. I'm pretty sure it's a requirement that all French cities have at least one of Arc de Triomphe; I think Montpellier has at least two...there may be three.
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| February of Fun France "Facts" |
[Feb. 1st, 2008|11:59 pm] |
I spent today doing some long-overdue unpacking. And, as I've needed breaks from folding black tank tops or reorganizing my DVD collection, I've been reading thorough the archives of all the late Januaries/early Februaries I've written about in this blog. And, fuck did I used to have a lot to say about not a whole lot of activity. I mean, I knew that I had done that - written in painstaking detail on a daily basis for a year or so (not a month ago, Ryon and I sat in a fast food Mexican restaurant in center city laughing hysterically about this very fact). What I didn't realize was that even after I had become somewhat articulate, discovered spell check, and had stopped writing hour-by-hour accounts of each of my days with additional emotional and/or crazy commentary, I still wrote a lot in the way of LONG, descriptive pieces which could otherwise have been summed up with sentences like, "I went to see my cousin in a play; it was kind of funny." THAT me would have written a three volume novel about the mere act of flying over International waters kind of NEAR France, not to mention the flowery-prose-of-erudite-vocabulary-she-learned-reading-Oscar-Wilde-biographies attack she'd have had once she got here. And while that would certainly be overdoing things in a laughably ridiculous way, having only written 11 posts since I moved here (3 of which are not even ABOUT France) is another kind of ridiculous. So, I've decided that it's time to start another short-lived, semi-regular feature, and as such, I am proclaiming this month the February of Fun France "Facts" (oh, alliteration!). This means that every day this month, I will post at least a sentence or two on something I like/hate about, or something that happens in, or that I have noticed about, or that has happened to me in, or that has hit on me in France. And since, in actuality, the things I write will probably be more impressions than facts, we've placed the "facts" bit in quotation marks. So, here is ( our first 'fact' of February: ) |
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