narisilme

Adventure over Spring Break

2007-03-28T00:44:00.000-07:00

Just supposing I were to live in Oregon 10 years from now and own a ranch... This picture is my future. Imagine the possibilities.

Call Me Carefree

2007-03-07T17:14:00.000-08:00

I wonder if you’ve ever had home ripped from you
You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry
You wanted to beat your chest
But you stayed stoic
It made more sense
You hadn’t been there for years anyway
It wasn’t really home anyway
You didn’t want to be pitied

It’s a tireless subject and I’m tired of it
It would be pointless to bring it up again
I’m not a real part of it
I didn’t live it
Far and away, that’s where I stayed
Watching the world pass me on a twelve inch screen
That’s where I’d like to stay

Every once in awhile it surprises me, though
I catch myself crying
Suddenly realizing
Why I feel so contorted inside

True Love in Bikerdom

2007-02-03T14:53:00.000-08:00

I used to think bicycle seats caused some discomfort. I, also, used to think of my bike as a horse. (Or, perhaps, that was someone's influence...some confused fellow who tried to decide if my bike was a noble steed or a mare). But, no matter. I've found the solution to all my problems and the answer to all my intuition.

COLLEGE STUDENT SADDLES UP FOR CLASS
College student so-and-so awakened one blustery California morning, brushed his teeth, took a large saddle from the shed, and strapped it to his Cruiser. Yes, folks, I actually saw him on campus--bike, saddle, and all. No time for a picture. I simply thrust myself in his path and begged him to marry me.

Stream of Consciousness

2007-01-24T17:16:00.000-08:00

I have a professor who talks as if he could be a sportscaster. I, also, have a professor who has loafers, pointy hair, and big ears. These guys show potential for a lot of writing material--the former because it seems he stepped straight out of a movie, the latter due to what he teaches.

Loafer man lectures for my "Leadership and Personal Development" class. I look forward to this course a lot. I'll get to look inward more than usual. We get to write journals and supposedly become better leaders.

Sportscaster professes history after the 15th century.

I'm taking the other half of history from man-in-leather-jacket-who-paces-from-one-far-end-of-the-classroom-to-the-other. I wonder if he killed my friend.

So...welcome back.

water, water, do not flee, flood my thoughts, wash over me

2006-11-29T20:35:00.000-08:00

Here's a picture I've been meaning to post for some time. I took this in the sanctuary of my church back in New Orleans. Notice the line left by the flood. They restained the pews before they took off the line. Now it serves as a mark in the history of this church. Look here and see, you future generations. See how God has carried us.

Holy Smokes! I've been tagged.

2006-11-13T22:37:00.000-08:00

I've been tagged by bellavoce! And today was a good day. Two good reasons to blog.

Blog tag goes like this: Since I've been tagged, I must write five things about myself. I'm going to try and write five unique things unheard previously by anyone in California. Then I get to tag five people. They will write five things about themselves--whatever they choose to reveal. Thanks to Miss Bellavoce for getting my blogger juices flowing again.

1. In waking up one morning after a storm (was it a hurricane? I cannot remember), I was carried into another room of our apartment. Trashcans sat in different spots of the room collecting water. Yes, New Orleans is perhaps notorious for its storms. It rained and rained so hard that our ceiling had brown spots for years afterward. We painted the ceilings. Another storm hit, causing the paint to warp and form air pockets. I always wanted to pop those air pockets. I think I did.

2. At the age of 10 and 11 I was in my school's traveling production of Dead End Street, a show to drive kids away from drugs. I dressed in ragged clothes, teased my hair, and painted my nostril with lipstick to make it look bloody. I climbed on ladders, beat on trashcans, stomped, and screamed. Those early shows in elementary school shaped me. Thank you, Lusher school, for sharing the gift of art and performance! Thank you for your art classes, your dance troupe, your tap classes, your festivals!

3. Speaking of Lusher school and festivals, my elementary/middle school held the annual Crawfish Boil. I usually kicked off the day performing with the dance troupe. I ate a carton of crawfish with seasoned corn and potatoes. Then, I roamed from the bake sale to the games and back to the bake sale, back to the games. I climbed Jacob's ladder. I bought a plant. I joined in the crawfish races. I bought confetti eggs to crack on the heads of my teachers, friends, and crushes. My parents insisted on taking a picture of Emily and me in front of the old oak tree every year. Ya'll come now!

4. My dad's work hosted an annual crawfish boil, too. It took place on the Sunday of the Thoth parade. Again, I ate crawfish, corn, and potatoes. Everyone chatted in the front yard. Policemen on horseback would pass, signaling the start of the parade. And, oh, here come the bands! And Mount Carmel's "Carmelettes," a local high school's dance squad. Now, the floats! Throw me something, mister! Stuffed animal! I want a stuffed animal! A spear! A spear! Anytime a crewman would pull out a plastic spear, adrenaline would rush over me. Outta my way! I'd get as close as I could to that float, my arms flailing! HAPpy Mardi Gras!

5. My family once dressed up like "Bloomin' Idiots" for Mardi Gras. I must have been two or three--back when Granny Crawford lived near downtown New Orleans. I'm sure my mama could tell you what possessed us to do such a thing or what possessed us to be the Potato Head Family or the Troll Family or the Moo Cow Family, udders and all. I'll never forget my pink velcro sneakers peaking out from under my hooves.

Now, it's your turn!
Yes, you: Rae, Rachel, Ma-Mamushka, Stephen, and Felix!

Violin et. al.

2006-10-03T19:43:00.000-07:00

Why can't I just stick to ONE THING?

Politics. Run away!

2006-09-27T18:15:00.001-07:00

She's going to blog. She is going to blog. Yes, she is going to sit down right now and blog about

anything.

Like toothpaste.

Have you ever tried to pick a toothpaste? Did you see all the choices?
Now how many political parties do you have from to choose?

2. When it gets down to it, you've got two choices. D or R. R or D.
So...does capitalism equal democracy?

This is fresh on the brain. I'm taking American Government from a professor of the left persuasion. I do not care to regurgitate everything I've heard from her. Yet, so much of what we've discussed in class makes sense. Why do we only have two parties that count for anything? Why do we associate the accumulation of material possessions with freedom?

Let's throw poverty into the mix. How does one take care of the poor? You certainly can on a personal level. However, I struggle with our federal government's role. My instincts say, "Government, save your people! Take care of them as you should!" My head says, "The poor you will always have...." I've listened to my head for a long time, passively.

2006-09-08T13:21:00.000-07:00

It's not right for me to let this go on too long--this silent treatment. I haven't drawn inspiration from anything lately. If I do let out what's on my mind, you'll just hear me grappling with cars, pollution, freeways, trash, and a muted sun. And other stuff. Poor wild narisilme.

Silence...just a little while longer.

"It's too darn hot"

2006-07-27T23:02:00.000-07:00

Here's what I mean when I say, "It's hot:"

I am reading The Wind in the Willows and War and Peace. I was reading a little of Le Journal d'Anne Frank. I am looking at a year's worth of photos over and over and over again. I go to Michael's. I go to Barnes & Noble. I'm 21 years old and I'm learning to drive. I'm going to Arkansas tomorrow! (Viva la Rachel!)

Et maintenant en francais. Je voudrais dire, mes amis d'une annee bien passee a Aix, que vous me manquez. Je vais bien. Je lis. J'ecris. Je peins. Pas mal comme ete, non? Je vous remercie encore pour cette annee ensemble. J'ai beacoup appris grace a vous. Vous m'avez inspire. Je vois certainement qu'il me faut continuer a ecrire en francais sinon je perds tous!

2006-07-22T20:34:00.000-07:00

Meet Peaman

An ordinary guy
Hard to come by
Terribly shy
Civil and sly
My, oh, my

3 hours of watching for this?

2006-07-09T14:20:00.000-07:00

Did I say red, white, and blue? I meant red, white, and green.

Nah, it was a good game and fun to see the Italians and their long hair jump up and down.

Vive La France!!! even though they lost the World Cup.

How y'all doin?

2006-07-08T17:22:00.000-07:00

So heeeeeere's Texas or me preppin for Texas. Next time I ought to get me a pair of jeans. And then I ought to strap a guit-ar to my back. The soccer shorts just don't cut it. While I'm on the subject of soccer, I'd like to mention that France plays Italy tomorrow. Maybe France beats Italy tomorrow. If it does, the whole country will go on holiday. I'll be in Texas wearing red, white, and blue. Now just who's red, white, and blue?

Photo by Little B.

Je pars!!!

2006-06-15T14:13:00.000-07:00

Incoming. Watch out!

My mama said I need to come home before I vaporize. She may have a point.

2006-06-12T03:57:00.000-07:00

While talking to Courtney yesterday, I suggested that leaving France is like dying slowly. (To this, she responded, "Now's the time to write!"). You see, when speaking French, I already feel myself losing words and the American accent shows itself once again. But we're okay. I heard that the French never goes away entirely. It just a matter of shaking it awake from time to time.

I, also, talked to Sunny yesterday (she's my "stuffed" rabbit--although she doesn't much like that term). I said, "Sunny, it's alright, you're gonna see Pat soon." At that moment, oddly enough, I felt a weight lifted off my chest. I hadn't said anything to Sunny in a good long time. And I certainly hadn't thought of Pat or Mr. Bean or any other furry friends. If I had, they were simply my "stuffed" animals, not the friends I know them to be. Shocking, I know. So, while this year is unforgettable, an experience full of color, taste, and poetry, I feel as if I slipped into the adult world.

I saw Monsieur Mont Sainte-Victoire on Saturday from a distance at dusk. His voice softly rumbles through grasses and pines. I hope it can travel over oceans, too.

2006-06-08T08:13:00.000-07:00

Becky, the archaeology major, said, "Wow, that's a big pot!"

Sur Le Cours Mirabeau

Rue du Quatre-Septembre

CSU Office

Scottish? Aie.

2006-06-08T07:57:00.000-07:00

The other side

2006-06-08T04:19:00.000-07:00

There's some sort of plasmic, magnetic, what have you, field between here and HOME. The others are falling through, one by one. "Rie left the 23rd." "Ah, oui." "And you?" "The 16th." "That's soon." "Ah, oui." It's as if you're gone forever once on the other side. You're not. You'll see the others in the future. But, will you ever be on this side of the shield at a moment like this, talking of Taiwanese government or a certain professor who smoked too much? The sun is brillant now. The tourists pass through like ants. Aix is chic-er than ever before with it's cafés, boutiques, and markets. I finally feel like a part of the charm--never true Frenchie, but charming. I lived here. I've seen the streets in focus and out.

I'm struggling with my feelings for this place, wanting to love it for the sun, knowing the loneliness it provoked. I'm struggling with my feelings for America, wanting to love it for it's love and hate it for it's hate. I know that I don't hate America. I feel a greater love. I now understand what it means to be American. It's not America that hoards and abuses as it pleases, but people make a mess--whether in the US, France, Japan, Taiwan, Russa...

I want to detest. I want to be discontented with every country I cross. I no longer like this earth. Honestly. Give me something else.

Give me God. Once again, my rambling points me in one direction. I want to find beauty, My Dear, and swim again through peace or daffodils or clouds or iced tea. I want to let go. I'm gripping something but don't know what it is and I want to release. I can't. Or won't. I want to be the thorn in Your side, My Dear.

...

Are we really in June?

2006-06-02T02:23:00.000-07:00

I was in Scotland but I might as well have dropped off the face of the earth since then. I'm already back in Aix with two weeks to go. Warsaw and Budapest seem like a dream--which is how it usually goes. Even Giverny, with its smiling blooms and lethargic lillies, is only just there where I can no longer touch.

There are books to ship and clothes to pitch, music to buy, cafés to sip.
Maybe I sound like I've got it all together, but I don't.

I can't help but need to hear someone's heart beat for me.
Architecture can only reach so far. A Japanese bridge can only inspire so many.

What fuels me is the beat of a sister, a mama, a father, a brother...
I'll go speak some French, live it up with the locals and my Japanese.
But I love you.

Popcorn anyone?

2006-05-22T12:28:00.000-07:00

When we got to the hostel in Edinburgh, Scotland, the girl at the front desk told us there was a free walking tour everyday at 11am and a free popcorn everyday at 7pm. We did the walking tour this morning. We visited a castle in the afternoon. We painted a little. At 7 we rushed back to the hostel for that free popcorn. As we busted through the door, someone said, "Are you guys ready for the pub crawl?"

Pub crawl? Pop corn?

Either we are really naive or they don't speak English properly.

An artist's pilgrimage

2006-05-20T12:30:00.000-07:00

School's out meaning there's only one thing left to do. You know.

This time it's over to Scotland, Poland, Hungary, and the grand finale, Paris. I'm taking off with my Prague buddy, Mademoiselle Courtney. However, at the end of our trip, I'll tackle Paris alone. Well, not Paris but close. Giverny (i.e. Monet's Gardens). I'm taking the pastel pencils along this time.

Walking down the streets of Aix, I feel dazed. Where does time go and why does God let us lose our memory? So I'll take the pencils along to capture what I can, and the rest I'll leave to my imagination.

What's that you say?

2006-05-20T12:06:00.000-07:00

Beware of little French men whispering in your ear

Third year down, how many more to go?

2006-05-19T09:08:00.000-07:00

I finished my last exam! There's no other point to this post other than to really rub it in, you know, milk it for all it's worth.

Ireland

2006-05-17T02:31:00.000-07:00

Precisely

The edge of the world (Part II)

My cousin Sean

Tradition

2006-05-12T08:40:00.000-07:00

Aix is fountainous. There are a great number of fountains found in various plazas, nooks, and crannies. There is a tradition, too. Well, maybe it's not a tradition, but I like to think so. As a student in Aix, one has to make a tour of the fountains at least once. By that I mean one waits until an unspeakable hour in the morning and one goes swimming. In the fountains. In an hour, we hit 9. There was, after all, some delay with police and so forth. The highlight of the evening? We trodded through the murky waters of La Rotonde, this city's largest fountain and postcard landmark.

2006-05-09T10:03:00.000-07:00

I knew a girl once who studied French. She took countless classes in French grammar, phonetics, history. She studied abroad to become fluent in the beautiful French language. She lived with a French woman and ate French food. She rockclimbed in French. She sang in French. Finally, her year abroad came to a close. As she got off the plane, she saw her parents waiting there at the gate. She ran into their arms and kissed their tear streaked faces as she said,

"Mom and Dad, I want to herd sheep."

The homeland

2006-05-07T15:26:00.000-07:00

I've been spending the weekend in the homeland. For those whose don't know, think of rolling green hills, red hair everywhere, the Blarney stone, and a Bailey's coffee. I am in love with this country. It's interesting how, for once, I feel a sense of belonging in a place. It's a kind of belonging that runs deep, deep through the veins, through your toes, into the damp soil. Is this what it's like to have roots?

I'll start you off slowly

2006-05-03T09:24:00.000-07:00

moving on

2006-04-28T12:17:00.000-07:00

I was a little Suede happy just then. Tomorrow it's on to our last destination: London! Today I ate Danish meatballs and saw castle number "I have no idea". Thanks for putting up with these posts. They're short but very sweet. I hope to organize my thoughts later on.

Suede!

2006-04-27T13:31:00.000-07:00

So I spent the day in Sweden and I've got to go back. I had no idea Sweden was so close to Denmark. The vikings and I are having a good ol' time. And I'm getting a lesson in geography.

I had a dream

2006-04-24T14:00:00.000-07:00

After the past couple of days I might just say that the tulip is my favorite. That is a difficult decision to make--the favorite flower. I don't know that I've ever liked one flower above and beyond all the rest. But let me tell you...from now on, when I think of the tulip, I will think of the day I rode through fields and fields of tulips on a bike. I will think of passing sand dunes. I will think of a few mystical moments facing the Atlantic ocean. Pinks and purples and reds will blaze. Oh, I do remember that day of the tulip. Or was it a night?

5 minute update

2006-04-23T12:22:00.000-07:00

I'm in Haarlem as we speak. I must have taken AT LEAST a hundred photos of different types of tulips today. Just letting you know that all is well in the "Nederlands." So many stories! Tot ziens for now!

Some of my favorites

2006-04-18T03:20:00.000-07:00

Pétanque

2006-04-18T03:09:00.000-07:00

Avignon

2006-04-18T02:59:00.000-07:00

Saint Tropez

2006-04-18T02:50:00.000-07:00

Bonjour à tous!

2006-04-15T10:59:00.000-07:00

Bonnes Pâques, mes amis aimés!

Well, I'm now on my two-week vacation. Crazy, I know. Do I go to school? Where is she headed this time?! What exciting new adventures will she experience?! Oh là là! Life is like brie cheese!

Dear friend,
This time, dahling, I'm off to Amsterdam, Haarlem, Copenhagen, and London. I like the sensation of moving, what. Life is absolutely charming at the moment! It's fantastic, really. I hope all is well with you. Do take good care.
Your beloved Eleanor

That's enough of that.

Thanks, Becky, for the pictures!

2006-04-10T14:30:00.000-07:00

(Tough escalade demoiselles at a playground in Aix)

TESOL

2006-04-03T02:45:00.000-07:00

Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages

People have asked me what I plan to do with French. I find myself following a script.
Eleanor: "I don't have any idea. Maybe international relations."
Interested: "Have you thought about teaching?"
Eleanor: *ugly face* "I do NOT want to teach."

My advisor and I have had a few long discussions on the choices set before me. We've discussed diplomacy, doctorats, professorship, curating. I go along with the conversation, prodding her mind of any information she could offer. In my heart, I don't want to be a diplomat or a professor or a museum curator. You might slowly shake your head if you knew what I wanted to do. You wouldn't doubt my dreams, that I know, but my dreams aren't of a practical sort. They involve music, books, the jungle, the desert, the sky.

This morning, not 10 seconds after opening my eyes, a word fell from the ceiling and gently landed of the edge of my thought. TESOL. It's a certificate program offered by my university. It's crossed my dream traffic before; I ran it off the road. Guess what the "T" stands for...TEACHING. Yet, the more I look into it, the more excited I feel. I do not want to be a teacher to teach teachers to teach teachers. That appears to be the only opportunity with French. But if I could share with human beings the love of life...

A pastor from the Congo spoke at my church yesterday and a missionary from a small island near Australia gave a slide presentation. Over lunch, I talked with a couple from the island of Mahé. The woman was originally from Madagascar. Last Friday, my Japanese student drew me a map of Japan and pointed out the major cities. She wrote their names in Japanese. She's getting married in France and I'm invited to the wedding.

I'm still learning that the gift of life is unwrapped in time.

Is that SUNBURN on my arm?!!!

2006-03-26T10:31:00.000-08:00

I went to a carnaval parade in Aix today. Nevermind that it's a month after the carnaval season. I like when big groups of people gather to celebrate culture. Drumming. Trumpets. Medieval costumes. Ball gowns. Dancers. Jugglers. Stilt-walkers. Ice cream. Iced tea. And Robin Hood. (Ethereal sigh).

What else? I'll be going to Le Roi Soleil on Friday. It's a musical/rock concert about the Sun King. Last semester Laura and I talked about making t-shirts that say "Louis XIV is my homeboy." It'll be my summer project.

I'm still "teaching" English to one of my Japanese friends. She knows much more English than I originally thought but we still get together to talk. Through this, I've realized that everyday English relies heavily on prepositions. Let's hang out. It's over there. Sit up straight. I'm in love. I'm reminded of 12th grade English and reading Beowulf. I could see that old English was composed of images. A ship might be a "wave rider," for example. I believe English is the language of images and French, well, is the languages of sounds. You want to know what turns me to puddy? It's whispered French.

I can't stop smiling

2006-03-22T10:07:00.000-08:00

My prof asked me yesterday in class why I was smiling. I don't know! But for the past two days there's been a light smile hovering over my mouth. It's as light as a feather. Maybe it's the reggae CD I checked out from the library. Maybe it's the pentatonic scales I've been practicing on the guitar. Maybe it's the postcard I got in the mail. Or maybe it's the arrival of spring (see below). But I can't stop smiling!

Strike!

2006-03-22T06:34:00.000-08:00

The French certainly know how to strike. There have been "manifestations" going on for the past two weeks. Nothing too serious has happened in Aix but it is fun to sit in class and hear people shouting and clapping outside. Poor Becky hasn't had class for the past two weeks. The French university is closed. I hear there is a special student committee in French universities for organizing student strikes.

I'd also like to mention that Sunday was the first day of spring. This is a big deal.

To find joy

2006-03-15T04:28:00.000-08:00

On my way to class yesterday, I heard the "chug" of a motorbike behind me. I moved to the side of the street and kept walking. As the bike sped past, I caught a glimpse of the man in motion. He was an old man, a bit scrawny. He wore a black, bulbous helmet and his elbows pointed straight out to either side of him. He wove his wheels through the streets of Aix.

I don't know that I've mentioned this before, but there is a dog for everything in France. Well, there's the rockclimbing dog and a dog that rides the bus and a dog that chills in front of the grocery store. We now have a class puppy named Twiggy. She curled up and took a nap in my lap while I picked apart a piece of prose.

On my way to the computer lab just now, I heard the sound of a guitar apicking and a fiddle ajigging together in a nearby apartment. Yes, I want to learn the fiddle.

Wine ambassador for life!

2006-03-05T05:42:00.000-08:00

You want to know what I love about France? I love the random. I went to Avignon with my Cal State program yesterday. Avignon is a medieval city and still looks like one. Several pope's hung out there in the 1400's and built a gothic palace. We arrived and got off the bus right next to the Pont d'Avignon (Bridge of Avignon).

Sur le Pont d'Avignon, l'on y danse, l'on y danse
Sur le Pont d'Avignon, l'on y danse, tout le monde

On our way to the Palais des Papes (Palace of the Popes), we passed a vineyard. People were dressed in blazers and broad brimmed black hats. People were singing. Children dressed in t-shirts and red baseball hats were picking up sticks. Two boys poked their noses through the fence and said, "Do you speak English?" A man speaking into a microphone annonced, "Look, some Americans have arrived! Our American friends!" They invited us into the vineyard. They gave us free t-shirts, wine, turkey, bread, cheese, paté, apple tart. I might want to mention that this was the palace's vineyard. I drank Pope wine! They removed their hats as they sang the Hymn de Provence. The band began to play. We took a picture with the mayor of Avignon (a woman, mind you). A man of particular importance asked Ashlee, another American, and me to come up to the microphone. He gave us the necessary "bises" (kisses on the cheek). He presented Ashlee with a bundle of sticks and a special glass for wine-tasting. Then, to top it all off, the three of us were to give a few words. He asked us what wine we prefered. Ashlee gave the perfect answer: Côte-du-Rhône. (We are in the region of Côte-du-Rhône). I said I was thankful and so happy to be there and so forth. They beseeched us to go forth into the world as ambassadors for Côte-du-Rhône wine. This is what I love about France: to live in the world of random and good company. I want to have stories like this my entire life.

Nicely Nice

2006-03-02T08:29:00.000-08:00

The edge of the world

Bet you didn't know I was Roman!

Nicely Nice

2006-03-02T08:13:00.000-08:00

Escalade (translation: rockclimbing)

2006-03-02T07:53:00.000-08:00

Becky and me Monsieur Mont Saint-Victoire's face

21

2006-03-02T07:40:00.000-08:00

Birthday Lunch
Birthday Dinner Birthday, Birthday, Birthday

Nice like the city

2006-02-25T11:35:00.000-08:00

I got home last night. Becky and I went to Nice for a few days. It was cloudy or rainy most of the time but beautiful nonetheless. We saw two parades. Nice claims to be the capital of Carnaval. Um...I beg to differ. However, the trip inspired me to see all the Carnavals of the world. That means I've still got to head to Venice, Brasil, Columbia, and San Luis Obispo. The first parade threw flowers. I think flowers beat beads. There's nothing like catching a giant leaf and dragging it around for the rest of the evening. It becomes me. And there's also nothing like correcting a group of French kids on their grammar. Becky carries a French dictionary with her at all times and, thus, was able to specify that it is, in fact, "UNE orchidée" and not "UN." We are so cool. Pictures will come as soon as I get them on a CD.

We got lost maybe 4 or 5 times during our trip and crossed half of Nice on foot in search of a sandwich. That's always fun. We went to the Matisse museum. I found a new favorite artist. We explored Roman ruins, medieval ruins. Now, I suppose I'll crack open the books.

I'm on vacation!!!

2006-02-19T11:44:00.000-08:00

Just a quick note to let you know I'll be in Nice this week to celebrate "Le Carnaval." I wonder if it's anything like Mardi Gras in New Orleans. We shall see. Many adventures to be had, I'm sure. Salut! Gros bisous! Ciao ciao meow meow, Eléanor

Here and there

2006-02-18T13:17:00.000-08:00

As I drift to sleep, my mind fast forwards 5 months. I see familiar faces. There is laughter. I think of adventures I will uncover. I plan the meals I will make. I realize I will miss the people. I will miss walking to get anywhere and everywhere. I will miss ancient buildings and churches, tall stone churches that press in on me when I enter. No, no, no. This can't be. I drag my heels in the thick, red soil. I do not want to go back. You cannot make me. I drag my fingers through my thick, red hair. It could be shorter. It was spunky when short but I want it to be long.

Why can't we enjoy each season for what it is? Why does my hair always have to be shorter or longer? Do I always have to be there and never here? This is my plea: to be where I am now and feel the sun against my face. Five months later, I will kiss those faces with my smile. Ten years after that, I will be and be and be. All the while, I will be with You.

Snapshots

2006-02-08T07:04:00.000-08:00

I like smuggling dark chocolate into grammar class.

I like the face Yi Mei makes when she laughs.

I like taking notes in red ink.

I fill my pages with swirls.

I sneak up to the school's attic.

Where the pigeons live.

I think of where to place my hands and feet.

Scaling a wall requires good technique.

I like the sound boots make on cobblestone streets.

Especially when I'm wearing them.

On her quest to find a home, Eléanor starts to realize it's found in the hearts of people

2006-02-01T13:18:00.000-08:00

Journal entry, February 1st

I realize that relationships are what matter. And I knew that but let me elaborate. I went to tea with Becky this afternoon. We first went to the Place de Vendôme. As we sat on a bench and watched the sun descend, I realized how much of an impact Becky has had on my life. I recalled the first time I met Rae--I thought she reminded me of Becky. When I first met Tara, I thought of Becky. But Becky is surely her own person. We sat on that bench and the memories started to flood back. Memories that were hidden, dormant for a time. I had specific images of tree climbing, Becky's house, the French surrealist film we saw at the Prytania theatre. I forgot I spent so much time with her. I can never let her go. No matter what distance separates us, no matter how much time passes. She is my homecoming.

After a turn through the park, we went to a "tea salon," sat on the floor with Frédérique the snake, we sketched a tree in honor of the magnolia that lost its life in the floods of hurricane Katrina. Becky loved that tree that stood in front of her house. So when I am grieving, God brings this wonderful girl back into my life, this wonderful friend. ...with Becky, being 10 seems like just yesterday.

...All the glory goes to God. His timing is perfect!

A la carte

I'm going to start teaching English to one of my Japanese friends! I am so excited but have no clue where to begin! Aunt Jo, you would be proud.

What one learns at tea:

2006-01-25T07:38:00.000-08:00

In Chinese, there are 5 different sounds for each group of letters. Take "ooo," for example:
1. ooo
2. ooo
3. ooo
4. ooo
5. ooo
You know, French ain't that bad.

This semester has a different feel. Most of the Americans in my classes went home. I thought others would be coming, but I only have two new classmates from Norway and a guy from an Arabic speaking country (I didn't catch where he's from exactly). So, all in all, it's me and the Japanese! And a girl from Taiwan! My lovely Laure flew away and I suppose Jake #1 is off somewhere in the mountains of British Columbia, smoking his pipe and finishing Le Petit Prince. Caitlyn and Jake #2 moved in on Saturday. They got the usual explanation of how everything works "chez nous" and, of course, felt like they'd been hit by a train. I had to be on my best behavior. No talking to myself. No random dance moves. I figure I'll let that come after we're a little more comfortable. I will be learning how to knit very soon from one of my French neighbors. How do you say "purl" in French? I talked to my friend Becky from New Orleans last night for the first time in a year! She's in Aix! We'll meet up soon over coffee. Ha! That's so crazy! I know, Eleanor, I know! Eleanor, you're talking to yourself again. I know!

At tea, one learns how to say "hello" and "goodbye" in Chinese. I'm sure this sounds profound.

Franz Liszt was a rockstar

2006-01-12T01:26:00.000-08:00

If you listen to the music of composer Franz Liszt, you'll find that it resembles the heavy metal of our time...so I hear. I hear that the ladies used to throw their shawls and kerchiefs on his piano as he played.

The girls (being Courtney, Ashlee, Lisa) and I went to a piano concert last night. I could see the reflection of the musician's face through the shiny black of the grand instrument. I liked the way he moved his eyebrows. And then he would whisper something.

There was a mosh pit afterwards, French style. They served wine and little pieces of bread with different kinds of spread. Food+French=Mosh pit! I learned that if you let yourself flow with the tide you'll eventually end up in front of the food table.

This was the first night I felt the travel stories flowing. In the past, it was: "Oh yeah, we went here and we saw that. It was beautiful."

But last night, it was:

So, one night, Courtney and I went to buy a hot dog at the Christmas market in Prague. The man started to make our order. A Czech song came over the loudspeakers. Every so often the singer would say, "Meow, meow" to the beat in a deep voice. The hot dog man sang along. But, the Czech people have such strong mannerisms. They seem so serious. I now have a permanent image of the hot dog man making our food with flare and saying, "Meow, meow," with an austere stare.

I forgot to mention that everytime Courtney ordered something at the market, they thought she ordered hot wine. Hot dog, babaccina placka, you name it. She got hot wine.

New Year's Eve and the Opera

2006-01-10T02:32:00.000-08:00

Bonne Année!

Jake and me in front of the Marseille opera house

Marseille at night

Opera!!!

That's Laura! (P.S. And that's my room!)

Prague

2006-01-10T02:23:00.000-08:00

Ashley and the Astrological Clock

Fred and Ginger Dancing Building.
See! Even buildings dance!

Sun Setting at 4:00

Travelling Partners in Crime

The Old Jewish Cemetery

Prague

2006-01-10T02:13:00.000-08:00

Good King Wenceslas

Mucha stained glass!!!

The bushy hat

One of these days, I'm gonna marry Robin Hood

La Traviata

2006-01-09T03:18:00.000-08:00

I've seen many a musical and now I've seen an opera. I think I'll sing everything I say for the rest of the week (in Italian). Every step I take will be loaded with meaning. I'll make gigantesque gestures and clutch the backs of chairs as I walk by them--as if the chairs themselves are able to support me. But I won't die. Although dying in someone's arms might be kind of cool.

Laura and I took the opportunity to dress up. She just happened to take two evening dresses with her to France. Jake did his best with a suitcase full of Canadian clothes.

Marseille is beautiful at night. You can't see the dirt. Even the smell of fish is beautiful.

And now let the week of exams commence! I miei exams cominciano! A plus tardi! Alora! Gatto! Gelato! Come si dice in italiano?! Andiamo!

[Eleanor clutches her heart and stables herself with the back of a nearby chair.]

There is a sign in front of mine

2006-01-02T06:58:00.000-08:00

It's official. There is a "for sale" sign in front of my house back home ("home" being New Orleans in this context). My parents will be moving to Dallas soon.

I've been wondering why it's so blasted hard for me to get over being homesick--or just sick as in lonely or sad or depressed. I am a living paradox. There are so many beautiful things to appreciate here. It is a dream, my dream. I want to tell you that I'm having the best of times and I am. Yet, the minute I say that I feel the knot in my stomach swell. How can I be so inspired and heart broken at the same time?

It comes to this, I guess:
Nothing is the same and I am grieving. One day I will return to familiar faces but, for the moment, there is not a single thing of the past. In times like these we revisit memories of childhood, but the places of my childhood no longer stand. They are flooded, destroyed, taken in the arms of a greedy wind. And I just want to have a good cry.

So, I will continue to tell you about the kissing practice and the really good food. I will describe the breathtaking countryside and the smell of fresh bread. I will dream for you in French, if you like. Just know the dreams we fight for do, indeed, put up a fight.

2005-12-29T07:18:00.000-08:00

They [the Jewish writers] live beset by three impossibilities: the impossibility of not writing, the impossibility of writing in German and the impossibility of writing differently, and we could add a fourth impossibility: the impossibility of writing at all.
Franz Kafka

I made it home. Today was a real Beauty and the Beast sort of day. People were smiling and singing in the streets. Bread was baking. This place smells like food. People were kissing each other on the cheek. Everyone was speaking French.

Going away for a little while enhances what you love about the place you live. I missed cuisine--not just food but the love for food. After ten days of not understanding a lick of the language, my head can't help but sigh at the simplest "Bonjour."

Highlights from Prague:
The Kafka Museum. The Old Jewish Quarter. A classical concert. A Gershwin concert. A palace. A Rembrant. The Wenceslas "square" dance. Everything with an undertone of Mucha majesty.

Not to mention the joy of limping around for the first few days.

Happy Christmas

2005-12-25T13:05:00.000-08:00

Apparently, people from Prague celebrate Christmas on the 24th. We didn't realize that till last night. Christmas slipped right by us!

Courtney and I spent today memorizing the verses to "Good King Wenceslas." We'll be heading to Wenceslas square tomorrow to make a short film with song and (possibly) dance.

I miss you. Everyone. Merry Christmas! May God be glorified.

The Grocery Store

2005-12-23T09:52:00.000-08:00

I set my items on the moving strip. She moved them over the scanner. The price appeared on the screen.
"Crezk schlova schloova vltava," she said.
"Why, of course," I thought. I handed her 100 koruny. She gave me change and said, "Dyeh kova sova schmipps." I struggled to shove my groceries into a plastic bag and put my change into my purse. I was holding up the little line behind me. "Yah," she said as they say so well, smiling sideways.

Just when you've got one language under control, here comes another one to tease you.

Dob-ree-dehn ("Hello" in Czech)

2005-12-22T10:04:00.000-08:00

The ankle is doing much better and I am so thankful for that. I was able to walk around a lot today. We went to that castle. We also saw a concert of Pachelbel's Canon and The Four Seasons in an icy basilica. We ate hearty potato soup. You'll have to forgive these short updates. But, for now, my time on the computer is limited. Ciao for now.

I've arrived

2005-12-21T10:43:00.000-08:00

Do you see this? This is me falling down. Dead. From delight, disbelief. This is my kind of city. There's a Mucha museum here. He's one of my favorite artists. Little did I know he was born in this area! They have a Kafka museum. They have a castle. They have snow.

More later...

Do you see this? This is also me falling. Falling down and spraining my ankle in the Marseille airport. But I made it here. And, after a day with my foot propped up and some Czech pain killers in my system, I should be set to go. My foot has already stopped swelling. Oh boy, one adventure after another.

To the dear subjects of the kingdom of love, loyalty, and laughter,

2005-12-14T10:46:00.000-08:00

Eleanor will be going to Prague for Christmas. There she will meet Good King Wenceslas and have tea.

She will return to Aix-en-Provence for the New Year.

She will recommence her studies on January 3rd.

Joyeux Noël! Bonne Année!
Cordially, The Prime Minister of International Relations

I am a Renaissance woman.

2005-12-09T07:58:00.000-08:00

A cigarette posed between two fingers, a black felt hat atop his "tête," he strides through the streets of an ancient city and uncovers the traces of art that's been kept. The students, they follow, frantically scribbling. They flap their fingers to get the blood moving. We enter a church. He carries a key and opens our eyes to a portal unseen.

Notes:
--Les portes de la Cathédral de Saint Sauveur
--Renaissance
--l'intégration du réalisme et du dessin
--un escargot!!!!!!!!!!!

Our professor points to a snail engraved in the wood of the cathedral's door. I am devoured by a fit of giggling. Many art historians believe it to be a representation of Andrewphius, Prince of Snails, as he consumed his last fatal leaf. There are some, however, that claim it to be Whimpy, the snail of little fortune but a noble heart and warrior stance. Thank you for the Renaissance!

Survival Guide to Living in France

2005-12-02T03:59:00.000-08:00

What, a car? That's okay. Run!!!
Do not hesitate. If you see a car coming, cross the street anyway. Laure and I look like headless chickens trying to get to the other side. "Now?" I say. "Umm..." says Laure. A group of French people haul it across the street. "Now?" Laure says. "Umm..." I say. Another flock flies across. "Now!" I say and book it. I get stuck in the middle of the road. Why did the chicken cross the road? Because he's French!

Watch your weather.
The weather man is a celebrity in France. I hear he's married and has a couple of kids. When the weather comes on during dinner, all conversation stops, Odile grabs the remote and turns up the volume. "Le Metéo!" she exclaims. We see a few gray clouds hovering over Southern France. "Ahhhhh, ohhhhh, it's going to rain!" Sometimes, there's a fat yellow sun on top of Provence. This extracts the same dramatic sounds. "It's going to be a nice day tomorrow!" or "Ahhhhh, ohhhhh, it's going to be warmer tomorrow!" or "Ahhhhh, ohhhhhhh, it's going to be COLD tomorrow!" Who needs the movie theatre when you can watch the metéo?

Ready, Set, Allez!!!

2005-11-29T00:11:00.000-08:00

More Interesting Happenings Reported
STRETCHING CLASS, UNIVERSITY GYM--The teacher asked her students to spot a rock on the rock climbing wall before them. This was to help their balance as they performed a particular exercise. Eleanor picked a rock and noticed it looked like a mouth. Wow, and those two rocks above it looked like eyes. There was a nose. The mouth started to sing to the music and the eyes started to blink. Before she knew it, the wall before her was a chorus of musical faces. Eleanor lost her balance.

The Weather
It snowed on the highway last week. It snowed a few days ago in town at 5 o'clock in the morning. The snow never stays long. Thus, Eleanor knows it's out there but has not seen it with her own eyes. She did see a puddle of ice on Sunday.

Sports
More rock climbing! (But not with Monsieur Mont St. Victoire. Eleanor decided to expand her circle of mountainous friends).

Culture
CHRISTMAS IN PROVENCE--The city of Aix, a miniature city of lights. There are lights in the trees and a canapy of "lumières" over the main street. There is a Christmas market and a massive evergreen in the center of town.

And Other News
Looking forward to writing that 12 page paper...

Fontaine de Vaucluse

2005-11-24T07:05:00.000-08:00

Roussillon

2005-11-24T06:45:00.000-08:00

Africa said, "Come home..."

2005-11-15T10:13:00.000-08:00

I've been wondering lately how I got started with French. Yes, it's a part of New Orleans culture. Yes, it's beautiful. However, I've been taking it for so long that I forgot my reason for sticking with it in the first place.

The Bus
I was taking my usual bus ride into town. I sat in a seat by the window, leaving the spot open next to me. An African man got onto the bus. He plopped his 3 year old son down next to me. "Ah," he said to his son, "tu as de la chance. Regarde la mademoiselle. Elle est élégante. Oui, elle est élégante." His son looked up at me. I smiled at him and nodded. The boy looked back at his father. "Elle est élégante," the African man repeated. He continued to talk to his son for the rest of the way. Then, as I hopped off the bus, I gave them a farewell "Au revoir."

The Walk Home
There was a new girl in church on Sunday from the Ivory Coast. I got to walk with her part of the way home. We talked a little about Africa, a bit about her studies in France, some about my stay here. We parted with an animated "kiss, kiss." She grabbed me by the arm, looked me in eye, and said in her wonderful African accent, "I hope we see each other again soon."

Back to 8th grade, 13 years old. A Nigerian brings his wife to New Orleans. He takes courses in public health at the local university. They have a baby. You cannot separate me from that baby.

They move back to West Africa.

Summer 2000, The Crawfords go to Africa. We visit the family in their home and a missionary from our church. I have a year of high school French under my belt but am at a loss for words.

Now to 12th grade, 17 years old. The African family comes to our house for a "short" visit. They plan on staying a month, end up staying three. There are three babies, now (one born while living with us). I dance around the living room with the 4 and 2 year old. I read to them. I let them hold me for ransom in their castle. I am a horse.

It's time to go back to Africa.

Reverse Culture Shock

2005-11-13T12:37:00.000-08:00

I just got back from a Thanksgiving dinner! Yes, it's a little early, but that's beside the point. It was with people from the anglophone church here in Aix. We ate at a house in the French suburbs. French suburbs look like American suburbs. The husband and wife were from Texas. Another woman was from Nashville. In fact, I noticed all the English speakers talked with a slight twang. We ate turkey, cranberry sauce, garlic mashed potatoes--you know, your typical Thanksgiving meal. The food was so delicious and it felt good to have Thanksgiving even when away from home, but I went into a state of shock. Where am I? America?

However, there were some students there from Italy, Russia, Mexico, China, and Spain--just to reassure me that I hadn't been sent back to the US before my time. Many of them were assistants with a French highschool. I guess a lot of language majors go to their country of choice after college to become assistant teachers. I'll probably end up being a teacher, after all. Heh, I don't know about that, but it could happen. It's an option. It's nice to know people can do something with a language major.

One more thing...
Please, please, please, if you get the chance to see Joyeux Noël, go see it! I don't know if it's showing in the States...probably in smaller theatres. It's one of the best films I've seen in awhile. Plus, there are characters in it that speak French, English, and German. A feast for the ears and heart!

Thoughts

2005-11-10T07:39:00.000-08:00

There comes a point in everyone's life after conjugating so many verbs into the passé simple, subjonctif, futur antérieur, and imparfait of the subjonctif when one starts to wonder, "Why am I doing this? I'll probably forget it all in a year's time anyway. I'll lose it when there's no one to talk French with." And that's when, just in time, one comes across a word like jetâtes. Jetâtes. One sits there for awhile, feeling the warmth of the word and the warmth of the sun. The neighbor cat stops by to chat. Leaves and phrases spin in circles. It is at that moment when one realizes she must carry on, if not for the sake of practicality, for the sake of beauty.

And then you've got Latin. They have the neutral. All you have to do is bring your noun to the vet. --Laure

2005-11-06T05:59:00.000-08:00

Donc, so like after Laure (aka Laura) and I alléed to church this morning we revenired to the apartment to take some déjeuner. We manged some salade, pâtes, and cheese and then decided to partir for the old book marché in Aix. Jacques (aka Jake) decider to rester chez nous because I pense he needed to finir some devoirs.

I have feeling you won't be able to understand anything I say upon my return.

Conversation between Laure and Eléonore at the book market:
Eléonore points to an old book with a man dressed in Robin Hood attire on the cover.
E: Oooh, he's cute.
L: How old do you think he is now? 50?
E: I like his outfit.
L: You do like men in tights.
E: It's true.
L: That's okay. I like guys with the frilly shirts. Those ruffles are just so...ah. Have you ever seen Interview with the Vampire? Let me tell you...

Among other things, I am learning a lot about what I like and don't like. I know now that I like brie cheese. I don't like dogs, but I like cats. Thin crust pizza is far better than thick. White chocolate wins. Things I've never had much of an opinion on are choosing to show themselves. And, yes, I have a thing for men in tights.

Toussaint

2005-11-02T03:43:00.000-08:00

They don't care much about Halloween. I saw one girl with a little face paint. What?! No Halloween? How could they? Ah, but don't stop there...

I awoke the next morning and rolled over to face my window. Big pink clouds. Big blue sky. Sigh. What do I do on All Saint's Day? There's the park or I could go to the market. Yes, but what do the French do on such a day as this? They go to the cemetery to put flowers on the graves of their ancestors. But I'm not related to anyone who died here (that I know of).

I have fallen in love with a certain man. His name is Paul Cezanne. He died in 1906.

I left the apartment that morning with a book, a journal, and a map in hand. I found the cemetery on the eastern side of town. Okay, Paul Cezanne. There should be some sort of sign, right--a big yellow arrow that shouts, "Paul Cezanne! Buried here!" There was no arrow. I wandered from tomb to tomb for half an hour.

Eleanor, I guess this means you'll have to ask. There's a man standing right over there. Here goes.

"Est-ce que vous savez où Cezanne est enterré?"
"Mais, oui! Bien sûr! C'est La Toussaint."

Yes! I love it when I can get a phrase out like that. He kindly showed me a map of the cemetery and how to find the grave of my long lost lover. I approached Cezanne, anticipation raging. I almost passed him up.

And there he was. I should say, "Voilà!" Right there among the other tombstones, the pine trees, the chrysanthemums, and the iron rod crosses. Someone had placed a pinecone on his grave. Others had arranged little pots of pansies. And me? What could I offer but the imaginary, polka-dotted violet I held in my hand?

Merci, Monsieur Cezanne. Tu m'inspires.

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

2005-10-24T03:47:00.000-07:00

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

2005-10-24T03:46:00.000-07:00

Hoo die!!!!!!

2005-10-24T03:43:00.000-07:00

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

2005-10-24T03:40:00.000-07:00

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

2005-10-24T03:38:00.000-07:00

Classic France.

2005-10-24T03:37:00.000-07:00

Ashlee et moi at the Gorge du Verdon.

2005-10-24T03:32:00.000-07:00

Moi et Monsieur Anse.

How to Walk a Marathon

2005-10-24T03:11:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-10-24T02:58:00.000-07:00

Start.

2005-10-24T02:56:00.000-07:00

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

2005-10-24T02:54:00.000-07:00

Enjoy the countryside.

2005-10-24T02:52:00.000-07:00

A little too much wine? Nah.

2005-10-24T02:50:00.000-07:00

Finish.

2005-10-24T02:49:00.000-07:00

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

Let's take up space, you and I.

2005-10-19T07:21:00.000-07:00

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

2005-10-13T05:04:00.000-07:00

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

2005-10-10T03:38:00.000-07:00

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

2005-10-02T06:55:00.000-07:00

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.)

A visit to the doctor

2005-09-27T06:58:00.000-07:00

What other American student gets to say they've been to the French hospital? I consider it a privilege. Last Wednesday, all the American students went to Marseille to get an x-ray of their lungs. They were testing us for tuberculosis. We need the test for our year long visa. Anyway, the doctors noticed a pea-sized dot in my lung. They refered me to a lung specialist in Aix. And here's the outcome from today's visit:

1. It's not a big deal.
2. I have calcification in my lung.
3. Lung calcification is fairly common in people from wonderful places like New Orleans.
4. New Orleans, proud to call it home.

That's the most recent news. Otherwise, I've been going to class and learning how to transpose long texts from direct discourse to indirect discourse.

Oh and I forgot to add number 5 (which is in a category all its own):
When I get back to the States, I can hang my x-ray on my wall, assuming that doesn't freak out the roomie.

2005-09-24T09:03:00.000-07:00

More Japanese! Just because.

2005-09-24T09:00:00.000-07:00

A wedding in Saintes-Marie-de-la-mer. Can I have horses in my wedding?

2005-09-24T08:54:00.000-07:00

La glace.

2005-09-24T08:48:00.000-07:00

At the Atelier de Cezanne with the Japanese students.

2005-09-24T08:45:00.000-07:00

SAKE! That night Aoi and Maki cooked a popular Japanese dinner.