Brief Catch-Up

Due to tiresome complaints, I am posting this little nugget to tide you over until I have time to do it right:

1. It was snowing the day I left. The train ride was slightly scary, the plane was delayed three hours. We watched an entire movie before backing away from the gate.*

2. But glad to be home.

3. Went to Mobile to get my car and assess the fallout. Ask me about The Towel Drama next time you see me; it explains a lot.

4. Went to see "The Princess and the Frog" with world's greatest goddaughter.

5. Christmas-- good to see the family.

6. Goddaughter apparently lacks confidence in my fish caretaking skills.

7. Bought a Wii. (Oh yes, I did.)

8. Off for some New Year's frolics, more later.

*Four Christmases. Sadly, I couldn't get any sound in my earphones, but if someone asks if I've seen this movie, I suppose I can answer that yes, technically I have. I just haven't heard it.

Adieu à la France qui s'en va

Possibly my most pretentious post title yet*, but it seemed sort of appropriate. (Sort of appropriate because technically it was me, and not France, which was s'en va-ing.)

After not sleeping most of the night, I got out of bed and had a cup of coffee. At eight, it occurred to me that it was still dark outside. Closer inspection revealed the unmistakable presence of snow. Hmm. Probably should watch the weather more often (by which I mean ever).

Heroic Annie (of Annie & Richard fame) drove me to the train station, a thrill ride involving uncleared streets, questionable breaking stalled trucks and u-turns. At the station, she abandoned cultural convention and gave me an honest-to-goodness hug. It felt fantastic. I have nothing against la bise, I rather like it in fact, but it occurs to me now that hugs are the corporal equivalent of comfort food.

More to follow on the adventures of La Rentrée aux USA, but for the moment I thought I'd share a few snow pictures:

*Adieu à la France qui s'en va is the title of a 2003 book by Jean-Marie Rouart, a member of the Académie Française. I know, totally pretentious, right? Particularly since I haven't actually read the book.

Joys of Mass Transit, Part 35

Paris, je t'aime. No matter what. And after a fantastic weekend and a truly superb (if insanely cold-- 33 damn degrees) Sunday in which I walked along the Seine with a dear friend and went to a lovely Doisneau exhibit followed by a movie that made me cry buckets, I had reached the point of thinking that I am a fool for choosing to leave this country.

And then, dear Paris, you took one for the team by reminding me of everything that I hate about you. Here's how the rest of my day went:

4:15-- I take the Métro from Les Halles.

4:35-- Arrive at Gare Montparnasse. My train doesn't leave until 5:05, so I have time to grab a giant hot chocolate for the road!

4:45-- My train doesn't appear on the departure board. Why isn't my train on the board? Okay, usually it's on quai 1-9, so I'll just breeze by and see...

4:48-- DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT. "For reasons of a social movement in Rennes, risk of perturbation on the axis serving Rennes Brest Nantes Le Mans..." GAH!

4:49-- Oh, so that's why there's this huge long line at the information desk. Guess I'd better step to the end.

4:50-- Random woman stomps past yelling, "I am SICK TO DEATH of these DAMN CIVIL SERVANTS and their DAMN STRIKES."

4:55-- A girl with a nose ring is irritably correcting her father, "It's not a strike, it's a social movement."

5:00-- I'm next in line. The lady in front of me is venting all her frustration on the girl behind the desk, and the girl in response says, "Hey lady, I'm not on strike here. You think I'm enjoying this?"

5:02-- Yes indeedy, my train has been cancelled. I can take the 5:50 train to some city I've never heard of. I hang around the freezing cold station with my finger up my nose for the next half hour.

5:40-- The departure board flips and Quai 8 is revealed. A mad dash ensues, as half the passengers on this train don't have seats.

5:45-- By knocking down some kids and old ladies, I'm able to hurl myself into one of the jump seats at the end of a car.

5:50-- The train isn't leaving yet. People are packed in like sardines. The man next to me has his elbow in my temple.

5:55-- Why isn't the train leaving?

6:00-- Ladies and gentlemen, there's a problem with the... something something... and we have to... something. We're summoning a mechanic and should have the problem resolved soon.

6:08-- They're summoning this mechanic from Norway, or what?

6:12-- Ladies and gentlemen, the train will be leaving at 6:20.

6:22-- Make that 6:25.

6:28-- Train leaves. I still have an elbow in my temple.

7:23-- Train arrives in Le Mans. I sprint to the tramway but this is a wasted effort, as the next one doesn't arrive for nine minutes.

7:27-- I. Am. Freezing.

7:34-- In the tram.

7:40-- Off the tram. Dash across the square and a block down to my bus stop, hoping hoping hoping that the bus will come soon.

7:42-- The bus came at 7:35. The next bus is at 8:06.

7:45-- I. Am. Freezing.

7:50-- I'm going to walk up and down the street for a while, because I can't feel my legs anymore.

7:56-- Stupid cathedral projections. They really annoy me.

7:58-- I eat some M&Ms. One falls on the ground and it looks so sad and abandoned that I pick it up and throw it away. I toss in another M&M so the first one won't be lonely. I am officially delirious from cold.

8:00-- Christmas lights go off. Cathedral is dark. Man, this place sucks.

8:04-- The bus comes early! I get on the bus! It's WARM! There's only one other passenger.

8:05-- Next stop, the other passenger gets off and I laugh because I have a private bus now. Then the driver gets off and I stop laughing. This happens from time to time-- shift change-- but they never say anything or explain, they just get off the bus, which is still running, and leave the doors open.

8:06-- I am alone on the bus.

8:07-- What would they do if I just got behind the wheel and drove myself home?

8:08-- Bad idea. I'm leaving Thursday, I don't need that complicated by jail time.

8:09-- There's a man standing in the middle of the street. He gets on the bus and sits in the driver's seat. I hope this means that he's the bus driver and not, you know, a random nutjob.

8:10-- I am alone on the bus with a random driver who has cranked up the radio. The song's title translates as "Crazy crazy crazy." He's using the fingers of his right hand to tap out the rhythm on his change tray, and he's staring at me in the rearview mirror. Shouldn't he be watching the road? What about ten-o'clock-two-o'clock?

8:13-- It's really weird being the only person on the bus. What would I do if he just ignored me and kept driving? Could I bust out a window and escape?

8:14-- I am off the bus. Finally. I cross the road and it is literally empty-- not even a cat. You'd think it's was three in the morning. I am so cold that the motion sensors do not even recognize my presence, and even while jumping up and down in front of the door, the lights don't come on. I have to illuminate my iPod to find the keyhole.

8:16-- In the door. Home at last, a mere four hours after I started out. Ain't life grand?

Let's All Go To The Movies

The local art house cinema always has large, brightly-colored posters advertising what's showing. I like this cinema best because they show movies in "verso," which means if it's an American movie I don't have to listen to weird French voices coming out of George Clooney's mouth. (Not that I've ever seen a George Clooney movie. But you know what I mean. I'm still recovering from the trauma of seeing "8 Mile," wherein the dialogue was all in French-- in one voice-- and the rapping was the original English. Freakish.)

Since I walk past the place every time I'm in town, you can imagine how startled I was by their poster advertising a new film, called "Masculine Domination." I just had to share with you.

And yes, there's a reason I've linked to it rather than just pasting it in here. Figure it out.

Christmas Shopping

I'm off to Paris this weekend for a last hurrah before leaving on Thursday. (Wow. That happened fast.) Thus far I've only bought one thing at the various Christmas markets I've been to, and this is it:

It's jam. I purchased it solely for its name (you can look up translations here and here) and all things considered, it's surprisingly tasty. Fruity. Sweet. Peaches and apricots mostly. Go figure. There was also a flavor called Couilles de Pape, but I felt this was going too far.

Oh, wow.

I just checked the 10-day forecast for Birmingham. Because I'll be home by then.

Good grief, I should probably start thinking about packing. Crap.

In Which Our Author Anticipates An Addiction

I went to Lille last weekend to visit a dear friend, Aurore. We met when I lived in Tours seven (gasp!) years ago and we've kept loosely in touch ever since. I treasure her friendship, because from the beginning she took me on as a project and made a focused effort to integrate me into French culture; everyone needs a friend like this.

One of the things I love best about Rory is that she's fiercely protective. I can't count the number of times she snapped at her fiancé to "articulate" when he spoke to me. It makes me laugh. I mean, I take it as a compliment when French people speak at their normal speed, although at some point I do completely lose track of the conversation and just stare into space. She also reprimanded him several times to use smaller words, which also made me smile.

Anyway, Lille was fantastic. Rory met me at the train station and we walked around the gorgeous downtown and caught up over a delicious lunch of hot sandwiches and a very indulgent dessert. I had a speculoos cheesecake, speculoos being a cinnamon-flavored cookie indigenous to the area.* I scored a verbal invite to the August wedding, which I'm totally stoked about. My diet starts January.

After dessert and coffee, we roamed around town some more and did a little shopping. I fell madly in love with a line of jewelry called Skalli, which is odd since I don't consider myself a jewelry person. I wear one ring (which I got when I was 11), an occasional necklace and I lost my watch. Still, something about this line really appealed to me.

Then Aurore suggested we take a ride on the giant Ferris wheel, and who was I to object? The views were gorgeous, Lille is absolutely breathtaking, and I took lots of pictures. I also fell out of the teacup on my way out, which left a humdinger of a bruise on the same leg I'd previously damaged falling off the bus.

We explored the Christmas market, which was massive. I swear there were more English people than French there. Because Lille is so close, lots of Brits take a bus or ferry over for a day trip, especially this time of year. Aurore understands English really well, which I forget because we always speak French together, but it was cute to see her laugh every now and then at something stupid the tourists said. (Said one rather chav girl about the products at what was clearly a waffle stand, "They're sort of like little pancakes.")

We met up with Laurent, Rory's fiancé, and we had a juice and I entertained them with my ability to name all 50 states. (You'd be amazed at what amuses French people.) Then we went back to their house, which I hadn't seen yet, and I got to take the grand tour. They've done a lot of work to the place, and it looks great. It's what the French would call très design.

Then it happened: Aurore broke out the Wii. This was my first Wii experience. My friend Chrissie has one, but up until now I've managed to avoid it. I don't know much about video games; I had an Atari, and I used to play Nintendo at Amy Lee's house, but my last experience with "gaming" was Leo's Playstation, and honestly, it was just too friggin' complicated.

I got sucked in to Wii-dom so fast it's scary. First we did Wii Sports, where Rory handily whipped me at tennis, I redeemed myself in bowling only to lose-- to a French girl-- in baseball. This gravely wounded my national pride and I feel certain that the State Department will be revoking my passport any moment now. Then we played a game whose named translates loosely to "Bonehead Rabbits." I feel sure that it has a different name in the U.S. It's based on the idea that rabbits have taken over the television and you (a rabbit) must act out the various shows. Some of them I was incredibly bad at (anything involving music), but others I rocked out (dancing and this other program wherein a drill sergeant shouts commands at recruits and they try not to mangle themselves).

Oh my gosh, I loved it. I was sitting on Rory's couch watching her snowboard a wildebeest (yes, that's what I said) and I thought, I need one of these. And I knew immediately that one of two outcomes was inevitable: I would spend entirely too much money and never use the thing or, more alarmingly, I would become grossly addicted and never, ever leave my house again.

Still, since I'm feeling muscle fatigue two days later, I can't help but be tempted. I mean, that sucker kicked my tail, and we weren't even doing the Wii Fitness thing!

So, here I am, vacillating. On the one hand, I've got a massive crush on the Wii. On the other, I'm already a homebody as it is. So time will tell...

Tomorrow I'll post about the wildly fun dinner party we went to, and if I can get my hands on pictures, I'll introduce you to my new boyfriend, Quentin. The world isn't ready to accept us yet, but in 16 years and 10 months, we'll be able to declare our love officially.

*Yes, I realize the article says Belgium, but Lille is spitting distance from the border, so there's a bit of overlap.

Spotted in Paris

It's either a soul food delivery unit* or a Leeds tour company:

*Kangaroo: them's good eatin'

Le Mans Does Christmas...

... in its own humble way.

Click here to see photos of the gigantic slide show they inflict on our otherwise quite lovely cathedral. I happened across it while waiting on the bus tonight and spent most of the time squinting and wondering what the crap I was looking at. I mean, I guess it's fine and all, if you're, you know, interested in cartoon drawings of trees and aquariums and whatnot projected onto a large stone surface.

Tomorrow I'll post pictures from my weekend in Lille, which just put Le Mans to (further) shame.

Um, so...

No, I haven't stopped writing this blog. I just don't have anything to talk about at the moment. Today I did laundry. I watched "Fringe" online. I bought groceries. In the rain. I spent a long time trying to figure out where the terrible smell in my kitchen is coming from. (Possibly goat cheese.) I bruised my ankle when I simultaneously dropped my iPod, bent down to pick it up and missed the step off the bus. See? This is why the daily updates have slowed down a bit.

But I'm off to Lille in the morning, so fingers crossed that I come back with some interesting stories or photos.

In the meantime, think happy Christmas season thoughts and keep checking in until you see my final, patriotic God-bless-the-USA extravaganza post. Then you can go back to whatever you were doing before I started whining about life in France.

Project Time

My STG class continues to torture me, so I opted to return the favor and assigned each of them a three-minute presentation for Monday. We've just finished reviewing all the life-stage verbs like grow up, get married, get divorced, retire, etc. So their three-minute speech is to present the entire life of the dead celebrity of their choice (or, if they really insist on doing someone who's still alive, they have to make up a cause of death and date).

I polled the class and had the kids commit early so I wouldn't have to listen to the same presentation about Zinedine Zidane 17 times, and they kept throwing out names that I'd never heard of and had no idea how to write down... then they'd spell them for me and I'd say, "Oh God, is that what you said??"

So, without further ado, I give you the list:

Sarah: Martin Luther King

Emmanuelle: I think she said Jacques Mesrine but I'm not positive

Anais: Marilyn Monroe

Walla: Malcolm X

Gaetan: Michael Jackson

Yamina: Tupac

Ghenima: Matoub

Melanie: Johnny Hallyday

Ingrid: Rosa Parks

Martine: Hitler (?!?!)

Yasser: Al Capone

Charly: "the man who plays Superman and is dead"

Andy: Notorious BIG

Mousmi: Aaliyah

Maria: Edith Piaf

Adrien: Bob Marley

I can hardly wait.