Monday, January 10, 2011

Au royaume du bonhomme hiver*

*French title of the French version of "Walking in a Winter Wonderland"

I think it's rather a tradition now to start my blog posts with apologies for how long it's been since I last wrote. I promise I'm not getting sloppy, just busy! But then, December seems to be like that no matter where you are, wouldn't you say? You've only just begun to get excited for Christmas when suddenly BOOM!, it's upon you. I absolutely can't remember all the things I've done in the past month (and it's really a month's worth of events that I've neglected to write about), but I will record what I can recall.

Bonhomme hiver ("Good Man Winter") has breathed a breath of festive life into Angers. On December 1st, a Christmas market sprung up like a North Pole village in the streets of centre ville. Little wooden huts vending a variety of goods, from Canadiana (not kidding, there's a Québec booth run by a man from Trois Rivieres) to children's toys to picture frames to purses and more. But the very best of these little booths are the ones that sell hot mulled wine and apple cider. Mmmm what better way to rechauffe l'âme (warm up the soul) on a cold winter's day than to walk around the Christmas market with a cup of hot wine in one hand, a hot crepe in another hand, and to be surrounded by friends? There are lights strung up from building to building across the cobblestone streets and little speakers emitting sumptuously traditional Christmas songs. No 90s pop Christmas, no country Christmas, no RnB Christmas; it is real, talented singers singing the good old tunes. Just picture the magic: Pavarotti's booming voix singing Ave Maria serenades you as you walk down a street that is older than Canada's recorded history. The first opportunity I had to visit the Christmas market was a Thursday night. I took my bike over there, and just as I got on it, it started to snow. It was light at first, and didn't stick on the ground. But as the evening went on, the flakes came down harder and fluffier, and they began to make a delicate blanket on the ground. What an image, eh?

Skipping back to the previous weekend, I've got to tell you about my funny Friday night. Becky, Melissa and I had gone out for lunch (just to give you a time perspective, this was the Friday after Jamie and I went out for the Beaujolais Nouveau) and we tried to figure out what interesting thing to do that night. I happened to have a local performing arts schedule, and we found that there was to be a ballet on the life of William Shakespeare that evening. After class I biked over to the theatre to buy tickets, and that evening I returned with the girls. I must say, we were not a little proud of ourselves for going to something as cultural as a ballet. "We're going to the ballet tonight," we told our friends. We wanted to get dressed up, but the theatre itself was not one that encouraged very formal outfits. Its design was modern and functional. The performance began with a showcasing of the university orchestra from the Université d'Angers Belle-Beille. We thought they were just going to give a prelude to the ballet's music, but they ended up playing for 45 minutes. They were really fantastic. They captured some very complex pieces. After their bit, some man came up and made a thank you speech. We were worried for a second that the show was over and we weren't going to see a ballet at all, but then the dancers came on stage. It's almost a shame they did. There were four of them: two men and two women. Each of them wore a sort of Robin Hood tunic-dress in a different pastel colour. That should have been our first warning. The dance began. One man was plainly supposed to be Shakespeare due to the odd quasi-Elizabethan cape he was wearing. The others... no idea. I was unsure whether the dance was supposed to represent Shakespeare's life or his works. The only imagery I picked up on was the Romeo and Juliet scene. Otherwise, all I saw was a bunch of contemporary leaping and spinning. It really was much more of a modern dance performance than a ballet. We had to keep ourselves from laughing outright (how tacky!) multiple times. There was one scene where Shakespeare and the other guy share a blazer - Shakespeare would put on one sleeve, the other guy would put on the other one. They would leap around for a while squeezed together, then suddenly would stop. One of them would take his sleeve off, do a weird flip over the other man, and then put the sleeve back on. Repeat. This ridiculous flip flopping lasted for about 10 minutes.

So, our high culture night did not go exactly as planned, but at least the dancing wasn't prolonged for more than an hour, and we were free to enjoy the rest of our night. We had no other plans, but knew of a carnival/fair that was going on across the river. We walked over and were met with the sight of flashing lights, whizzing rides, and endless waffle/crepe stands. It reminded me of a less-tasteful version of the Rosedale Mayfair (to those who don't know, it's a fair that happens in a park in Toronto). It was plainly not a high-budget affair, but it had enough rides and games to be significant. We walked through the fair enjoying the sensory spectacle that it was, but none of us was feeling in the mood to partake. The rides were just a little too expensive and a little too underwhelming to be very temping. Having satisfied our curiosity, we walked back across the river. Upon crossing the bridge, I had a rather ingenious idea. This bridge was absolutely made for Poohsticks. If you've been deprived of Winnie the Pooh stories in your childhood, Poohsticks is the game where each player chooses a stick, everyone drops his/her stick off the bridge at the same time, and then you run across the bridge to see who's stick appears first on that side. With the lights of the city shining around us, it was the perfect night for a little childhood fun.

The rest of that weekend I spent at the house of a French family with whom I had been paired through AFIA (a host-family organisation). AFIA families are supposed to invite their foreign student to dine with them or go on an excursion with them to inject some more French culture into these students' lives. The family that I was paired with, the de Cenivals, live in a lovely old country manor out in the campagne. They own a winery and several vineyards just outside of Angers. This was my first time meeting the family. I, along with a student from Notre Dame University in the US (Carolyn) were picked up by Catherine and her daughter Sophie in town. When we got back to their house, Carolyn and I could hardly prevent ourselves from being embarrassingly overjoyed by the house. Old wood floors, exposed beam ceilings, great stone fireplaces, deep window bays with carved shutters, and three very excited dogs. Unfortunately, we never got a full tour, so my nosiness had to remain in check. Dommage. In short, our programme for the weekend was to visit their winery (and taste!), eat (such tender chicken), walk into town, and generally loaf around. We spent a few too many hours playing Monopoly with the youngest son - and when I say too many hours, I consider any time beyond the purchase of Park Place and Boardwalk to be irritating, so spending a full afternoon in playing this game was um... a little stressful. The best part of the weekend, however, was waking up on Sunday morning to find the world outside dusted with a layer of snow. It almost never snows in Angers, so to see this was like having my own private Christmas morning. The spectacular beauty of the green French countryside and an old French house covered in the first snowfall was lovely.

Another weekend I have fond memories of was the weekend after the Soirée International. A bunch of us students, some of the monitrices, and a collection of their friends came out to the bar after the show. The show, by the way, was kind of like a talent show for the students. It's supposed to be a presentation of culture, but it ends up being a little more broad than that. Laura played some Nova Scotian tunes on her fiddle, and I sang "She's Like the Swallow," a folk song from Newfoundland. There were some really incredible performances. So, afterwards at the bar. We all had a wonderful time chatting and laughing, and doing one of those hand games that you learn at summer camp where everyone has to hit the table in a certain way. I sat next to Matthieu and Adrien, friends of my friend Maëlle, at whose place we ate one of our Thanksgiving dinners. The three of us got talking about the Saturday morning market, and so it was decided that we would go together. On Saturday, the three of us set off together with no specific ideas of what to make for lunch, but knowing that inspiration would follow. We examined the fruits and veggies at our leisure and finally came up with a menu. I made a salad to start (endives, peeled apples, raisins, walnuts, honey, and balsamic vinaigrette - SO GOOD, learned it from my AFIA family), the Matthieu made rice with beef, veggies, herbs, and cream, and then Adrien prepared various fruits for our dessert and a wonderful french lemon drink. We had Christmas music going, and the three of us were bustling around the kitchen peeling and chopping and cooking. We ate like kings! It was a true French meal in that it lasted for a couple hours at least. I didn't leave until about 4:30 pm.

The night before, my typical "sortiring" friends (such an awful franglais word you've never heard as "sortiring" - Anglicization of sortir, to go out) were all otherwise occupied. It was my last Friday night in Angers before the holiday, and I had no intention of sitting by myself. So I went out to one of the typical CIDEF student-filled bars and happened upon a bunch of CIDEF girls there. We ended up wandering around centre ville for a while, and then stopping at a wine bar. It was such a good girls' night. Chatting, gossiping, drinking wine like fancy connoisseurs. It was a bittersweet occasion, because I hadn't realised how well I got on with these girls. And to think that they were leaving in a week was a little sad. All the same, it was excellent just to be mixing up the routine.

Oh, remember me mentioning Aurélien, our new French friend? Well, after not so much time (and to no one's surprise) his and Laura's friendship rather... blossomed. The three of us went to see Harry Potter, and the night was crisp and fresh and full of possibility. After the movie, we walked around a little bit, and the two of them walked side by side, shoulders and elbows bumping occasionally in that comfortable way that couples have. I was supposed to meet up with my roommates after, so we stopped by Falstaff. Laura and Auré stayed for a minute or two, but decided on going for a walk instead. I almost laughed when they asked if I wanted to join. There was no question in my mind how the night would end for them. And sure enough, the next morning I turned on my phone to a text from Laura: "WE KISSED." Anyway, I am absolutely the happiest third-wheeler. They manage to be simultaneously intimate and inclusive. We eat lovely meals chez lui, watch episodes of How I Met Your Mother, and generally have a good time. And we speak French!

Ok, last couple of things to recount. First, weekend of going to Normandy. The Friday night, Melissa, Jamie and I stayed at Becky's overnight. Our bus to Normandy was to leave at 6:30 am, and we figured it would be better to be close by the school. Becky and her roommate Mackenzie invited some girls over for a slumber party. Lovely typical high school sort of event (except for the wine; we weren't that sophisticated in high school). At the ungodly hour of 5:30, my roommates and I woke up high off our lack of sleep. We got to the bus station, me feeling feverish and flu-y, the others not feeling too peachy either. Nevertheless, we hopped on the bus with the other students and prepared for the 3.5 hour ride. I passed out pretty immediately, and completely missed an important view or two on the way north. Our first stop was Caen, to the WWII museum (excellent, if you ever get the chance), followed by the American cemetery, which was moving and beautiful, and then a disembarquement beach (where the Allied troops landed), and finally to a cliff that the Americans scaled in order to take over the German bunker at the top. You can still see the original barbed wire and what's left of the bunkers and shell pits. It was really worthwhile seeing, the whole trip.

Unfortunately, the illness I felt that morning didn't go away, and I was home sick for the next couple of days. Normally, I think I'd feel miserable, but I slept most of the time, and I knew that I'd be home in less than a week. That was a rather sustaining thought. The rest of the week was a busy one. All the American students who were staying just one semester leave at Christmas, even though the semester ends in January. They have to be home to start their 2nd semesters in the US. As a result, we had a lot of tests and assignments before the break which would count as exams for the students who were leaving. What's more, I had to mentally prepare myself for the departure of my own dear friends. Two roommates and a collection of others were leaving definitivement. The night before we all left, we went out to our typical bar and just sat, contemplating the 4 months. It was hard to be chatty when everyone was stressed, tired, and a little sad. But more people came along, and eventually we were convinced to get up and dance. We shouted the words to the songs we knew, screamed with laughter as we swirled each other around, and generally made a spectacle of ourselves, releasing all our pent-up tension from the week. It was such a great way to wrap up my time with them. I miss those guys, and it's really strange being here without them. I really lucked out on my roommates and on the people we made friends with.

Now, it's after Christmas. I've taken more than a month to tell you everything I should have ages ago, and I had an entire 2 week holiday in between. So refreshing. My week has already been full of excitement, so I'll raconte (tell) you the next installment soon! Bisous*!
* Funny story, I said gros bisous (big kiss) to a Canadian friend of mine in a message, and she responded "So I am going to assume GROS BISOUS means "gross bison" and so I will leave you with an equally passionate signoff:

Fermented Chicken."

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