PICTURE FRENZY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is what happens when I only bring my laptop into town once a month.

Hoo die!!!!!! 

The chapel in Moustier. Moustier is built on the side of a mountain. Are we in Lord of the Rings? 

Le Gorge du Verdon. I definitely felt like I was in Lord of the Rings. 

Classic France. 

Ashlee et moi at the Gorge du Verdon. 

Moi et Monsieur Anse. 

How to Walk a Marathon

Preparation: the night before. Bake chocolate chip cookies. Split two batches between three girls: Courtney, Ashlee, and Eleanor. Watch a French film called Les Choristes in French with English subtitles (yes, that is called cheating). The following morning, wake up at 6:30 and take the train at 7:05 to Pertuis.

Start. 

Walk.
And by walk, I mean walk, eat, and taste wine at several food booths on the side of the road.

Enjoy the countryside. 

A little too much wine? Nah. 

Finish. 

Enjoy a nice, wet walk back to the train station. 

Let's take up space, you and I.

Now, I know that some of you have a hard enough time finding your stomach. Try finding your estomac, your genoux, or your...what, gasp, no!!!!...your bassin. And did you know you have talons? They do in France.

I had my first stretching class today at the university gym. The class was held in a giant room, complete with a rock climbing wall and ropes for aerial tricks. I pulled off my sweater, slipped off my sneakers, and walked in. The sensation caught me by surprise. I could feel the size of the room, the air pressing in on me.

I had forgotten what it was like to take up space.

It's been a good two and a half years since taking a class of that sort or being in an empty room of such proportions. And IT FELT GOOD. I wanted to dance. I couldn't let that empty space just sit there, you know, lazy, cocky, and far too presumptuous. You can do things when dancing that you rarely get to do when walking or sitting at a desk. You can press your palm on the ceiling of the sky. You can plunge your fist into the magma of the earth.

It's the art of taking up space.

The Harlequin Romance

Some poor soul left a stack of harlequin novels at my French mom's house. Last night, I was sitting at my desk writing a letter. Jake (from Canada) casually waltzed into my room and said, "Hey, Eleanor, have you read Blaze?" He held up a paperback with a fiery red cover.

"Noooooooooooooooooooooo!" I screamed. I could feel myself melting.

"Oh, come now," said he. He opened the book. "Jeremy knew that she wanted him. He felt...gumfle bmfle wmfle shsh bmfle." I do not know what else he read; my hands were over my ears. After a few seconds of reading aloud, his voice trailed off. His eyes got big and his chin dropped. Suddenly, he threw the book down. "I'm not reading that!" he exclaimed and left my room. Phew, safe again.

Le Concert de Noël
Alors, Laura (the other housemate) happens to be one of those rare people that shares my taste in music. We had a guitar party on my very big bed last night. We've decided we're going to put a concert on for Odile (my French mom) during Christmas vacation. This concert will include music by the Beatles, a particular version of "Scarborough Fair," and...well, that's all we've got so far. It's nice to have a fun brother and sister around, even if they are anglophone.

Petit annonce

My parents were able to go home last week. Our house has a few broken windows. My lemon tree that I planted in kindergarten was knocked over. Our back fence, blown down. We now know that our neighbors who live behind us are Polish--hey, there's no fence, we have to talk to them. Many of the trees in our neighborhood were uprooted, as well. This damage is minimal considering our friends who have lost everything. My father spent most of the week, as he likes to say, "picking up sticks." At the moment, he's planning to keep the job in Texas and meet up with my mom on the weekends. She'll stay in New Orleans. Honestly, we still have no idea what will happen in the future.

The intensive course is over. On to the year long classes: art history, French language history, phonetics, grammar, literature. Good, meaty subjects.

I spent another Saturday with Monsieur Le Mont. He had more of an attitude this time but that's okay. Would you like it if you had little people crawling on your skin day in and day out? I forgive him.

Then, I spent another Sunday eating--this time with the pastor and his Irish bride. Jason, I wished for you. I ate, at least, seven crèpes. Crèpes with ham. Crèpes with cheese. Crèpes with jam. Crèpes with cream.

So, that's it for now. I'm off to class. Please pray that God would give me strength. I need it. And know that all of you are in my prayers.

Of Mistrals and Mountains

I have certain memories of times when I felt God wooing me. For instance, I remember waking up one Saturday morning with the sun shining in my face, the large oak tree rustling outside, and a breeze sighing over my skin. I remember another time, very similar, reading Macbeth by an open window as the curtains swelled and exhaled. So, God must whisper in the wind.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have autumn. Today there was a Mistral. It's the name of the wind particular to this region. It actually felt like autumn as I remember it in New Orleans. Not that New Orleans really has seasons, but it does more so than Southern California. I was invited to eat lunch with a family after church and I believe I had my first "I must be in a movie" experience. We ate outside, even with the Mistral in full force. Several courses. Bread, fish, rice, vegetables, fruit, chocolate. I could look over the vines and see that mountain of whom I've become so fond. Mont Sainte-Victoire has become my friend.

Eléonore: Bonjour, Monsieur Le Mont. Vous allez bien?
Mont: Oooh, well hello there, My Lady. Yes, I'm doing quite well, thank you.
Eléonore: You don't mind the Mistral at all?
Mistral: No fair talking about me when I'm right here!
Eléonore: Oh, dear me, I'm sorry, Monsieur Le Mistral! I didn't see you coming!
Mistral: (yawning) This conversation is un peu chiant. In other words, boring. I must be off!
Mont: Oh, well. There he goes again, My Lady. He's not the most agreeable fellow, now is he?

Yesterday, Mont Sainte-Victoire and I spent a fabulous morning together. I went rock climbing with a group of French people. About 15 people went of all ages. Aside from my toes hurting (rock climbing shoes are not for comfort), I had the greatest time bonding with the people and bonding with my mountain.

I now have two new housemates--a girl from Pennsylvania and a guy from Canada. The Japanese are gone and I miss them. But, I'm hoping to build good friendships with the newcomers. I noticed the girl brought the book All Creatures Great and Small by James Harriot so I think we're going to get along splendidly (like the sugar substitute).

Eléonore: I guess it's time for us to go now.
Mont: Wishing you all a wonderful week.
Eléonore: And until the next time...
Mont: Let's kiss each other's cheek.


(The kissing practice is a great story in itself.)