If it can, can it mean "Reminiscent of France"? Because that's what today has been.
I feel like I've adjusted fairly well to being back in the States: I drive my car instead of walking around the block, I eat too much food all the time, I speak with a more Southern dialect than I would've been caught dead using in Aix. But, sometimes, there are things that pop out and remind me that I did just spend an incredible seven months abroad.
I woke up and put on my Zara skirt and my sleeveless shirt that I've had for years that says "regarde-toi" on it in pretty script. That's fairly French. Then I went to eat lunch at Newk's with my parents, and since they have Orangina and since I'm in Orangina withdrawals, I had an Orangina, which reminded me very much of being at Newks. I think it would've reminded me more of France if it had been canned, but you can't have everything.
After I left Newk's, I went to run errands for Mom. I ran into the mother of one of my high school classmates, who asked me what I'd been up to, and I mentioned that I'd just gotten back from time abroad. (FRANCE!)
From there, I went to the mall to pick up a gift. As I was leaving, I decided to peruse the shoe department (who knows when you might need shoes), and a lady working looked at my shirt and then double-took at my shirt and said, "regarde-toi. C'est francais!" mostly to herself.
In a past life, I would have been incredibly self-conscious and smiled and moved on, but my French withdrawals might be worse than my Orangina withdrawals, so I asked her (in French) if she spoke French. Turns out, she IS French, from the banlieu (suburb) west of Paris, and she's moving back June 10th. I told her I'd been in Aix, and she said that it was a beautiful place. It's really nice to encounter people who speak French in Jackson, Mississippi.
All in all, it's been a Freminiscent day.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Observations
After being back in the states for a couple of days, there are several things that stand out to me as "I didn't realize that this would be so shocking when I returned." Here are some of the major ones.
• Kroger is the biggest store ever. It doesn't seem to have anything in it that I need and couldn't get at Intermarché or Casino, but it's at least ten times their size and overbearingly whatever-the-opposite-of-claustrophobic is.
• Waiters and waitresses WILL NOT LEAVE YOU ALONE! They seat you. Come and take your drink order. Come back without drinks to make sure you're okay. Come back with your drinks. Come back three or four times to make sure your drinks are okay. Come back and take your order and explain the specials. Come back between taking orders and delivering orders to make sure everything is okay. Every time they come back requires stopping mid-sentence to acknowledge them and then having to find your train of thought again.
• Drinks have free refills! And ice! How bizarre.
• It's really difficult to get places on foot. We have so much space.
• Our wildlife is completely different. We don't have pigeons but we do have squirrels, menacing red wasps that send me into a panic, and mosquitoes the size of birds.
• It's humid. Aix is dry dry dry! 80 degrees and sopping is not nearly as comfortable as 85 and dry.
I'm sure there are some other ones that I have missed and will think of later, but those are the ones that I keep noticing.
On another note: It sure is nice to be in close physical proximity to the boyfriend, the friends, and the family. Skype is such a wonderful tool, but it cannot and does not replace the wonderful feeling of curling up on the couch by someone to watch tv or play Portal 2.
• Kroger is the biggest store ever. It doesn't seem to have anything in it that I need and couldn't get at Intermarché or Casino, but it's at least ten times their size and overbearingly whatever-the-opposite-of-claustrophobic is.
• Waiters and waitresses WILL NOT LEAVE YOU ALONE! They seat you. Come and take your drink order. Come back without drinks to make sure you're okay. Come back with your drinks. Come back three or four times to make sure your drinks are okay. Come back and take your order and explain the specials. Come back between taking orders and delivering orders to make sure everything is okay. Every time they come back requires stopping mid-sentence to acknowledge them and then having to find your train of thought again.
• Drinks have free refills! And ice! How bizarre.
• It's really difficult to get places on foot. We have so much space.
• Our wildlife is completely different. We don't have pigeons but we do have squirrels, menacing red wasps that send me into a panic, and mosquitoes the size of birds.
• It's humid. Aix is dry dry dry! 80 degrees and sopping is not nearly as comfortable as 85 and dry.
I'm sure there are some other ones that I have missed and will think of later, but those are the ones that I keep noticing.
On another note: It sure is nice to be in close physical proximity to the boyfriend, the friends, and the family. Skype is such a wonderful tool, but it cannot and does not replace the wonderful feeling of curling up on the couch by someone to watch tv or play Portal 2.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
On Travel, Separation, and Jet Lag
As I pulled out of the Gare Routiere (bus station) in Aix yesterday, a poem from a book that everyone knows popped into my head. "The road goes ever on and on / Down from the door where it began / Now far ahead the road has gone / and I must follow if I can / Pursuing it with eager feet / Until it joins some larger way / Where many paths and errands meet. / And whither then? I cannot say."
Tolkein had a lot to say about the merits of travel, and even more insight into the spirit of adventure. While I found his books rather tedious and hard to sift through, his stories epitomize the idea of adventure, and what I have just finished has been one great adventure.
Travel is "fatiguant," and time is a weird concept. I left Aix yesterday morning at 4:40 a.m., which was actually 11:40 p.m. according to where I am now. Twenty hours later in real time, but only fourteen hours later in stated time (4:40 to 6:40), through three security checks in three countries and four flight of varying lengths, I made it to the Jackson airport. My parents and my boyfriend were there to greet me with balloons and hugs (and to give me a hand with my seemingly infinite but actually very well packed luggage).
I am missing very dearly my friends in France. Chris's complaints about us not being there to cook him dinner make me smile (gotta push the bird out of the next sooner or later), and it's eerily comforting to know that Michelle is moving to Laos tomorrow, because whether or not I were still in Aix, she would soon not be there to adventure with me. Two months down the road, when everyone is gone, my feelings will be different, but for now, while I am not wishing I were still there, I am missing everyone very much.
As for Jet Lag: I woke up at 5:45 a.m., which is almost 1 p.m. (a time I've been known to sleep past) in Aix. It's not even 9 a.m. and I've been up for 3 hours. Something is amiss. I may take a nap, but if I do, someone's going to need to take responsibility for waking me up before 5:45 a.m. tomorrow, or I may never readjust.
I must follow if I can pursuing it with weary feet until it meets some larger way where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say.
Tolkein had a lot to say about the merits of travel, and even more insight into the spirit of adventure. While I found his books rather tedious and hard to sift through, his stories epitomize the idea of adventure, and what I have just finished has been one great adventure.
Travel is "fatiguant," and time is a weird concept. I left Aix yesterday morning at 4:40 a.m., which was actually 11:40 p.m. according to where I am now. Twenty hours later in real time, but only fourteen hours later in stated time (4:40 to 6:40), through three security checks in three countries and four flight of varying lengths, I made it to the Jackson airport. My parents and my boyfriend were there to greet me with balloons and hugs (and to give me a hand with my seemingly infinite but actually very well packed luggage).
I am missing very dearly my friends in France. Chris's complaints about us not being there to cook him dinner make me smile (gotta push the bird out of the next sooner or later), and it's eerily comforting to know that Michelle is moving to Laos tomorrow, because whether or not I were still in Aix, she would soon not be there to adventure with me. Two months down the road, when everyone is gone, my feelings will be different, but for now, while I am not wishing I were still there, I am missing everyone very much.
As for Jet Lag: I woke up at 5:45 a.m., which is almost 1 p.m. (a time I've been known to sleep past) in Aix. It's not even 9 a.m. and I've been up for 3 hours. Something is amiss. I may take a nap, but if I do, someone's going to need to take responsibility for waking me up before 5:45 a.m. tomorrow, or I may never readjust.
I must follow if I can pursuing it with weary feet until it meets some larger way where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
On Parting + Some Entertaining Anecdotes
I don't tend to get particularly emotional at endings. I cry in movies and at pain, and sometimes I cry for no apparent reason in the middle of the woods, but I crying at endings has never really made sense to me. I don't think this makes me insensitive, but it does seem rather off-putting to a number of my friends.
Programs like the one we are in are unnatural in much the same way that Freshman dorms are. Whoever went, "Hey! Let's throw a bunch of people together for a fixed period of time so that they can get to know each other really well because they have a lot in common but then they have to leave to all corners of the earth," probably should've thought things through a bit first.
To all of you who seem concerned that I'm not emotional right now: Call me in three weeks, two months, or a year (or anytime; I like you guys a lot, and I'd love to chat!)
It still hasn't really set in that I've just forged very strong bonds with very cool people over a very short period of time. What has set in less than that is that almost immediately, we will split, travel to our respective corners, and suffer limited contact as a result of distance. It's hard to comprehend, but it's true. However, I trust that we will be in regular contact due to this really cool thing called "facebook," so I'm not too terribly afraid of "never seeing each other again," as a specific male roommate keeps threatening.
I leave to go home Monday at a ridiculously early hour of the morning (the bus leaves at 4:40 a.m.), so tomorrow is my last day in Provence. I hope to make the most of it, although I suspect I'll spend the majority trying to fit all of my things into my suitcase(s). We'll see how that goes.
____
I promised some anecdotes:
This will teach you to tempt fate. Last night, a group of us were having a glass of wine and taking some pictures (despite the abysmal weather) at Liz's house before going out to the Comté d'Aix for dinner (it's my favorite local restaurant). So, lately, Chris has been joking about ways to make Michelle (who is moving to Laos on Wednesday) and me stay in Aix. He slipped, "Maybe I could just break my leg or something and then you'd have to stay and nurse me." into our conversation while we were at Liz's. As we were walking down the stairs to go to the restaurant, something happened and he lost his footing, turned his ankle, and was rendered unable to do more than hobble down the street.
Eventually, Florence and I rushed to the pharmacy and bought a tube of "Biofreeze" cream to keep the swelling down, he and Michelle got a cab to the restaurant, and by the time we had finished dinner, the advil that Liz had given him immediately after the fall had kicked in enough for him to hobble home.
Liz, Florence, and I continued on to the restaurant, hoping to get there in time to get enough seats for everyone we thought was coming. About halfway between Liz's house and the Comté d'Aix, there was a "thunk," as Florence's bag dropped to the ground, shoulder strap broken beyond repair. We fairly quickly rigged the bag so that she could continue to carry it, began chatting about how bad things come in threes, and walked the rest of the way downtown.
If bad things come in threes, we may still be waiting for the last one. Or maybe something happened that can count. I'll keep my fingers crossed for the latter.
Today, we were sitting in my room as I began the first stages of packing. We were Chris, Liz, Lucy, Michelle and I. Several weeks ago, I bought a squeaky toy elephant for Lila, Meggie's puppy, and because I haven't gotten it together enough to take it to her, it's been sitting on my desk. So, first, Michelle threw the toy at Chris. Chris, after recovering from a poorly aimed throw, decided to hit a fungo with one of his crutches (bequeille, I think is the French word) perfectly arching the tiny elephant out my open window.
This in itself made us double over in laughter, and it took us several minutes of recovery time before I was able to grab my keys, pull out my flip flops, and go downstairs to recover the thing. I was still inside the gate when I saw a little old lady notice the toy, pick it up, give it a good squeak, look around somewhat skeptically, and walk away carrying the little elephant with her.
I shook my head, went back inside and died out laughing. Of all the things that could've happened, an old lady ended up with my elephant. I hope a puppy somewhere is happy.
Programs like the one we are in are unnatural in much the same way that Freshman dorms are. Whoever went, "Hey! Let's throw a bunch of people together for a fixed period of time so that they can get to know each other really well because they have a lot in common but then they have to leave to all corners of the earth," probably should've thought things through a bit first.
To all of you who seem concerned that I'm not emotional right now: Call me in three weeks, two months, or a year (or anytime; I like you guys a lot, and I'd love to chat!)
It still hasn't really set in that I've just forged very strong bonds with very cool people over a very short period of time. What has set in less than that is that almost immediately, we will split, travel to our respective corners, and suffer limited contact as a result of distance. It's hard to comprehend, but it's true. However, I trust that we will be in regular contact due to this really cool thing called "facebook," so I'm not too terribly afraid of "never seeing each other again," as a specific male roommate keeps threatening.
I leave to go home Monday at a ridiculously early hour of the morning (the bus leaves at 4:40 a.m.), so tomorrow is my last day in Provence. I hope to make the most of it, although I suspect I'll spend the majority trying to fit all of my things into my suitcase(s). We'll see how that goes.
____
I promised some anecdotes:
This will teach you to tempt fate. Last night, a group of us were having a glass of wine and taking some pictures (despite the abysmal weather) at Liz's house before going out to the Comté d'Aix for dinner (it's my favorite local restaurant). So, lately, Chris has been joking about ways to make Michelle (who is moving to Laos on Wednesday) and me stay in Aix. He slipped, "Maybe I could just break my leg or something and then you'd have to stay and nurse me." into our conversation while we were at Liz's. As we were walking down the stairs to go to the restaurant, something happened and he lost his footing, turned his ankle, and was rendered unable to do more than hobble down the street.
Eventually, Florence and I rushed to the pharmacy and bought a tube of "Biofreeze" cream to keep the swelling down, he and Michelle got a cab to the restaurant, and by the time we had finished dinner, the advil that Liz had given him immediately after the fall had kicked in enough for him to hobble home.
Liz, Florence, and I continued on to the restaurant, hoping to get there in time to get enough seats for everyone we thought was coming. About halfway between Liz's house and the Comté d'Aix, there was a "thunk," as Florence's bag dropped to the ground, shoulder strap broken beyond repair. We fairly quickly rigged the bag so that she could continue to carry it, began chatting about how bad things come in threes, and walked the rest of the way downtown.
If bad things come in threes, we may still be waiting for the last one. Or maybe something happened that can count. I'll keep my fingers crossed for the latter.
Today, we were sitting in my room as I began the first stages of packing. We were Chris, Liz, Lucy, Michelle and I. Several weeks ago, I bought a squeaky toy elephant for Lila, Meggie's puppy, and because I haven't gotten it together enough to take it to her, it's been sitting on my desk. So, first, Michelle threw the toy at Chris. Chris, after recovering from a poorly aimed throw, decided to hit a fungo with one of his crutches (bequeille, I think is the French word) perfectly arching the tiny elephant out my open window.
This in itself made us double over in laughter, and it took us several minutes of recovery time before I was able to grab my keys, pull out my flip flops, and go downstairs to recover the thing. I was still inside the gate when I saw a little old lady notice the toy, pick it up, give it a good squeak, look around somewhat skeptically, and walk away carrying the little elephant with her.
I shook my head, went back inside and died out laughing. Of all the things that could've happened, an old lady ended up with my elephant. I hope a puppy somewhere is happy.
Friday, April 08, 2011
Emails from Grandma
Every other day or so, I get an email in my inbox from my grandmother. I enjoy and cherish these emails, and I regularly share them with my friends. The thing about Grandma's emails that is entertaining is the way that, in a lot of ways, they seem as though they had a character or word limit put on them. Regularly, I will get emails that say:
Dear Lauren,
I look forward to seeing you when you get home.
Love,
Grandma
I don't respond to these emails as often as I should, but I wanted to share how much I enjoy them.
I am looking forward to seeing everyone in a week and two days. I'll be home before we know it.
Dear Grandma,
Thanks for all of your emails.
Lots of love,
Lauren
Monday, April 04, 2011
Time of Your Life
Today marked the first of what I am certain will be numerous official and non-official "lasts". My Monday class at Collège Campra will be in London (or Brighton) next week, so I won't have them again. I foresee some of these lasts being welcome changes - the last time I have to carry my laundry 100 yards across town to use costly washing machines that may or may not get my clothes sufficiently clean; the last time I have to shower in the three square foot shower with a head that shoots straight across at the wall on the other side, making it difficult to actually wash oneself with two hands; the last time I have to visit friends with a very strong ulterior motive of using their unrestricted internet; the last time I have to worry about an unpredictable but powerful upstairs neighbor threatening to kick me out of my on-campus housing. But, as is often the case, change brings loss, and a lot of these lasts will accompany very strong emotions - the last time my friends can roll their eyes at me for choosing to come home and skype with my boyfriend instead of going out on the town; the last time we get to pack 20 people into a 16m^2 apartment that used to be a restaurant; the last day trip with great friends. The lists could both go on forever.
In the 1990s, Greenday released a song called "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)." When I think of the phrase "Good Riddance," I tend to associate it with being pleased that someone is gone, but as I was wandering home from my (last Monday) class (ever) this morning, the idea that it might also be able to mean, in a completely non-sarcastic sense, "being pleasantly finished with and or leaving something enjoyable." And if that is a possible meaning, then I definitely think it is appropriate to apply to this experience. Moreso, two sets of song lyrics always pop into my head at apparent endings: "It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right." and "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." The former is strongly apparent in my assistantship, and the latter seems to be emerging as I make plans to return to the States.
I've been having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that the plans for this jaunt abroad started well over a year ago. It is equally difficult to believe that I've already been here for six whole months and considerably harder to believe that I will leave this place as my "permanent" residence in (now less than) two weeks.
The French say "doux-amer" to mean "bittersweet," and that's a very concise explanation of this leaving. There is sweetness in the idea that I will be close to people I love dearly upon my return; it has been hard staying in touch with friends and family with a 7-hour time zone difference that puts them out of work at midnight. However, as we near the end of our "stage" in Aix, dear friends here begin to scatter across the globe. There will be a day when it will be necessary to visit each one in Egypt, Russia, Italy, Argentina, Canada, England, and many different cities across the US. Or perhaps we could just reconvene on Aix once every few years, buy a house, visit, and enjoy Provence some more.
This past weekend was enjoyable. Katy, an assistant friend from Apt (a good bit north of Aix), came down, and on Saturday she and I went to Arles, the Camargues (a swampy area famous for wild horses [that couldn't drag me away], flamingos, and bullfights. Of these, we saw flamingos), and St. Marie de la Mer (the town in which the three Mary's are believed to have landed after the death of Jesus). Sunday, we had a picnic, saw a carnival (we dress in costume for Halloween and have parades for Mardi Gras; the French dress in costume and have parades for... April 3rd?), made breakfast-for-dinner, and watched The Breakfast Club. It was a good weekend.
My favorite photo from the weekend is this one of Katy on the rocks at the beach at St. Marie.
In the 1990s, Greenday released a song called "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)." When I think of the phrase "Good Riddance," I tend to associate it with being pleased that someone is gone, but as I was wandering home from my (last Monday) class (ever) this morning, the idea that it might also be able to mean, in a completely non-sarcastic sense, "being pleasantly finished with and or leaving something enjoyable." And if that is a possible meaning, then I definitely think it is appropriate to apply to this experience. Moreso, two sets of song lyrics always pop into my head at apparent endings: "It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right." and "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." The former is strongly apparent in my assistantship, and the latter seems to be emerging as I make plans to return to the States.
I've been having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that the plans for this jaunt abroad started well over a year ago. It is equally difficult to believe that I've already been here for six whole months and considerably harder to believe that I will leave this place as my "permanent" residence in (now less than) two weeks.
The French say "doux-amer" to mean "bittersweet," and that's a very concise explanation of this leaving. There is sweetness in the idea that I will be close to people I love dearly upon my return; it has been hard staying in touch with friends and family with a 7-hour time zone difference that puts them out of work at midnight. However, as we near the end of our "stage" in Aix, dear friends here begin to scatter across the globe. There will be a day when it will be necessary to visit each one in Egypt, Russia, Italy, Argentina, Canada, England, and many different cities across the US. Or perhaps we could just reconvene on Aix once every few years, buy a house, visit, and enjoy Provence some more.
This past weekend was enjoyable. Katy, an assistant friend from Apt (a good bit north of Aix), came down, and on Saturday she and I went to Arles, the Camargues (a swampy area famous for wild horses [that couldn't drag me away], flamingos, and bullfights. Of these, we saw flamingos), and St. Marie de la Mer (the town in which the three Mary's are believed to have landed after the death of Jesus). Sunday, we had a picnic, saw a carnival (we dress in costume for Halloween and have parades for Mardi Gras; the French dress in costume and have parades for... April 3rd?), made breakfast-for-dinner, and watched The Breakfast Club. It was a good weekend.
My favorite photo from the weekend is this one of Katy on the rocks at the beach at St. Marie.
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