*Above the clouds
So off we went to the Alps. It was a weeklong preview of heaven, a limited-time-only glance into Paradise. Matt and I dragged our wearied bodies onto the 7 am train departing Angers for Lyon. Our assigned seats were far away from each other, but we took the risk and sat next to each other anyway, knowing we would need to help each other wake up at the other end. At Lyon, feeling only slightly less bleary, we switched to the regional train that would carry us through the mountains. Our final train stop was Saint Jean de Maurienne, which is about an hour from the city of Grenoble. We arrived at Saint Jean just in time to catch the next bus up the mountain.
We were a little worried by the rather astonishing lack of snow around us. I began to wonder if our ski holiday would become a hiking holiday instead. Yet, as the bus wound around the turns of the switchback mountain road, we calmed down. The higher we went, the more evidence of winter we saw. By the time we reached La Toussuire, our particular ski station, the ground was covered. There were, however, several runs of the ski hill closed due to faible enneigement (poor snow cover). The bus stopped right in front of our chalet, Les Résidences Goélia. Matt and I checked in and headed up to our apartment. We didn't have our own building, but a suite in a building of 12 or so. It comprised a bedroom, bathroom, WC, kitchenette, and living/dining room (with futon). It was a lovely, darling apartment. And our view! Our balcony looked south-east over the mountain peaks, a sight I never tired of. In the early morning we awoke to a stunning sunrise, during the day we got the full power of a hot sun, and in the evening we got to watch as the last light disappeared. As soon as it got dark, the yellow glow of another mountain village appeared across the valley. I took more pictures from our balcony than from anywhere else that week.
Laura and Aurélien, the poor things, arrived exhausted late that night. Their first train was late, forcing them to miss the second. As a result, they took another train into the middle of nowhere, then a bus, and finally a taxi. Nevertheless, they were happy to arrive. We all slept in on Sunday morning, our plan being to take the day to orient ourselves and start skiing the following day. The town of La Toussuire is not so much a town as a giant loop. It was about a 15-20 minute walk from our chalet into the centre.
Despite its tiny size, it was rather lively during the day. Like any ski village, the commercial establishments were either ski equipment stores/rentals, grocery stores, restaurants, or bars. As you can imagine, the prices of food were outrageous, many things being at least a euro more expensive than the same products in Angers. In fact, I had naïvely thought we could each spend about 30 euro on food for the week. Ha! Quelle blague. It ended up being about 70 euro per person. Now, we didn't exactly skimp on food either. On the contrary -- we ate like kings! The four of us demolished about 4 baguettes/loaves of bread a day (yes, that would make an entire baguette per person...), 1.5 kilos of Nutella, several jars of jam, countless bottles of wine and beer, olives, avocados, cheese, pasta with rosé sauce, crêpes, savoury soups, and the pièce de résistance, la tartiflette. I'm going to explain this little beauty to you all in the hopes that you understand to at least some degree it's value. First, you boil a lot of potatoes. Then slice them, lay the slices in a casserole dish. On top you add a combination of caramelised onions, crême fraîche, and lardons (little cubes of ham), and finally a thick layer of rablochon cheese. Repeat. Put in the oven for a few minutes until it melts into a wildly creamy, rich mess of mountainy goodness. It was into creations such as this that we gladly poured our money on our daily supermarket runs.
On Sunday evening, we discovered there was a skating rink in town that was open at night. It was still light when we arrived, and we amused ourselves enormously on the otherwise empty rink. About half-way through our alloted two hours, Matt went back to the skate rental booth and came back with a handful of hockey sticks. Being a true Vancouver boy, he has been playing hockey since he was a fetus. The rest of us... well. I think we did quite well considering! The rink was unintelligently designed in such a way that there was a sizable gap between the barrier wall facing the street and the ice. We had to pause our game numerous times to ask passersby to throw us the puck from where it had been slapshot-ed into the snow a level below. It was so refreshing to be back on a skating rink, sliding around like crazies and getting as competitive as our skill levels would allow.
Monday morning, we were on the hill. We bought a four day pass, figuring we would decide later on how to spend Friday. We picked up our skis and boots, and made our way up the mountain. It was cold, but gosh was it beautiful. Mother nature had clearly decided to show herself off: the sun blazed at full power, the snow scintillait (sparkled), the mountains loomed huge and purple. From the summit, we could look down at the scattering of snowy villages below, and to the east was a mass of cloud so thick that it could almost have been an alpine lake. There were many times when we would all just stand around looking at the view, not speaking. We really just couldn't believe our luck. The snow was alright -- a little icy, especially at the end of the day, but we discovered some less-frequented runs. There were a couple pistes with some wicked bumps, and if you came at them with enough speed you were guaranteed to catch a little air.
Here was our daily pattern: wake up, eat a divine breakfast of bread, nutella, and confiture (jam), get dressed while listening to pumping music, ski out our door to the chairlift (booya!), take advantage of the early morning groomed snow, come in around noon for a two hour lunch, return to the hill until it closed at 4:45, ski back to our front door, drink hot chocolate, laze on our balcony in stupefied happiness listening to calm music, make dinner, eat, then play games and/or attempt to go to the bar. We had our meals set up quite well. We would decide on the following meal's menu on the hill, then someone would go grocery shopping when we got in. Whoever didn't help make the meal did the washing up, and the cooks would relax. We ended up fighting over who would wash dishes, buy groceries, and set the table. "No no no! I said I would do that! Go relax. Really! Sit!" Stubborn lot we were. Each dinner was preceded by an apératif, usually a bowl of olives, sausage slices, chips, and beer mixed with an orange liqueur called Picon. We would have a baguette or two handy to have with the meal, and then some sort of dessert after, even if it was only yoghurt.
Man, it was such a blast. We listened to so much music, mostly oldies rock and soul. We danced around the chalet, laughing and making fun of each other. We created a four-member club, complete with its own hierarchy (president, VP, slave, creepy-crawly). We played the same game every evening: you write down a whole bunch of words or phrases. The goal is to get one of the other players to guess as many of the words as possible. First round, you go around the circle and each person has 30 seconds to explain as many of the words as possible without actually saying the word. Second round, you can only say one word. Third round, you have to act it out. Fourth round, you can only make one sound. Given that Aurélien had been teaching us all sorts of French vocabulary throughout the week, and we were teaching him some useful (or not so useful) English words, it became an excellent way to practise our new knowledge. Example: yardsale (expression for when someone wipes out spectacularly on the hill, leaving one ski up the mountain, another one that slides downhill, and poles lost off to the side somewhere), creepy, and hefty. In French: démangeaison (itch), éblouir (blinded by the sun), and tire-fesses (t-bar).
On Friday, Aurélien, Laura and I took a little lie-in, but Matt got up early to try his hand at snowboarding. The rest of us decided to conquer the mountain on foot. It was a warm day and the snow was soft. Half-way up the hill, we called Matt and made him take the tire-fesses over to us. After a nice little chat, we sent him back down the hill, and we continued our way upward. The sense of satisfaction I felt upon reaching the peak was extraordinary. Naturally, we celebrated with a beer. The idea of walking back down was not inviting, so we asked the nearest chairlift operator if we could take the lift down. It was, I believe, my first time going down a mountain in a lift! Those of you who ski know how funny it is to see people coming in the wrong direction. We smiled and waved at the laughing faces that came towards us, and enjoyed the view. The four of us reconvened for lunch, and then again when the hill closed. That night we were determined to go out to the bar. We had tried a couple times before, but the first time the town was dead, and the second time all we found was a live punk rock concert. I appreciate a little punk in the appropriate circumstances but... that was not one of them. And so it was that on Friday we sat in the town's main bar, determined to stay and enjoy a drink despite it being 'Amateur Reggae Night.' Once we had had quite enough of that, thank you very much, Laura and Aurélien went home and Matt and I headed to the discothèque. Despite arriving at about 12:30, there was no more than a handful of people there, and not a single couple on the dance floor. Matt and I decided to be brave and get the party started. The club started filling over the next hour, and by 1:30 it was feeling less like a high school dance. We danced until 3, at which time we retreated home and collapsed in a pile of exhaustion.
The next day, we returned to Angers sad to be leaving but happy that it happened. Such an incredible holiday. I couldn't have gone with more wonderful people. Nothing like going away with your best friends only to discover that you love them even more than you previously thought.
ps. photos to come!
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
À bientôt, à tout à l'heure, au revoir.*
* See you soon, see you later, until the next time
The very end of our first semester has arrived. We handed in our final papers and projects, and steeled ourselves to say goodbye to our friends who were leaving at the end of January. I guess it would be redundant to say that I dislike goodbyes, given that I don’t know anyone who actually enjoys them. But, it's sad to think that I may not see these people again. Many of the Japanese and Korean students whom I’ve gotten to know are heading back home. I’ve always thought it would be vaguely interesting to go see Eastern Asia, but it wasn’t until I met these wonderful people that I began to have a very great envie to go. I absolutely have to see Asia!
The very end of our first semester has arrived. We handed in our final papers and projects, and steeled ourselves to say goodbye to our friends who were leaving at the end of January. I guess it would be redundant to say that I dislike goodbyes, given that I don’t know anyone who actually enjoys them. But, it's sad to think that I may not see these people again. Many of the Japanese and Korean students whom I’ve gotten to know are heading back home. I’ve always thought it would be vaguely interesting to go see Eastern Asia, but it wasn’t until I met these wonderful people that I began to have a very great envie to go. I absolutely have to see Asia!
This is going to sound corny, and perhaps it is, but if I’ve learned anything this year it’s that despite all our differences that seem so significant, no matter where someone is from, we’re all pretty much the same. So many of the friendships I made this semester were based on waves, smiles, and a cheerful “ça va???” shouted the entrance hall. We came from every time zone, every latitude, and yet we could all connect on a much more basic level. Everyone wanted to learn, everyone wanted to have fun. And we did. And something else I noted is that we étrangers (that’s to say, foreigners) tend to understand each other’s mangled French better than many French people understand us. Case in point: my oral expression class. There were only 5 of us in the class, and each of us had a different mother tongue. But when someone struggled with a particular sentence, we students often had more luck in picking up what they were trying to say than our professor could. Our shared language turns out not to be French, but rather the willingness and the desire to understand each other.
The last week of classes, I asked my langue professor, Florence, if we could organise a dinner together as a class. So on Wednesday evening we all met up at a little crêperie in the old city centre. It was lovely, as our class gets along so well but we don’t tend to all hang out outside class. We stayed for a couple hours just enjoying the food and each other’s company. It was great having Florence along with us. She’s seriously the coolest teacher. No other university professor I’ve experienced has ever shown so much interest in his/her students, never taken such good care of us. If we have trouble with a lesson, she goes out of her way to find further exercises for those who want them. You’re having trouble with your host family? She’ll help you. You want a job? She’ll help you. She was more the host mother to us than many peoples’ mères d’accueil. Unfortunately, the school requires that all the students change levels after first semester, so I’m not able to have her again. It’s a blow, but it was such an advantage having her that I really can’t complain. My other professor that I shall miss is my history prof. It is due to people like him that I am so fascinated by the subject. Each class is like story time, or perhaps a TV episode. Every student is poised on the edge of his or her seat, sucked in by his stunning delivery. I’ve decided to write my history honour’s thesis on French history, so I’m going to see if I can get his help in picking a topic.
Last weekend was the least exciting of all my weekends in Angers. In fact, I think it was the one and only (and please, let it be the last!) that I spent at home, not being social and celebrating life. Instead I developed an intimate relationship with my semester’s worth of notes and read TWO grammar books cover to cover. Never again. Our final exams started on Monday. I spent the week as productively as possible, paying homage to the beautiful school library. Matthieu and Adrien have set up semi-permanent camp on the second floor, so Canadian Matt and I joined them. The poor things are probably sorry they told us to join them, given how many questions we ask, but it was lovely spending time with them, as usual. I started a new study pattern (for me, anyway) of going to bed at a “reasonable hour” and waking up early to get myself to the bibliothèque. I will miss this library next year! Stfx, take note. If you provide a welcoming place for your students to study, they will actually do so!
So my exams passed without serious incident, my grammar exam being the grave exception. Speaking of exceptions, I’m pretty sure my prof put every possible grammatical exception on the exam. Actually, there was one other event worth mentioning: Matthieu and Adrien both teach oral expression classes, and as a result are supposed to oversee the oral exams. Matthieu asked when mine was, and when I said Friday afternoon he informed me that it might be he who would be marking mine. Later, however, he double-checked his list and said that no, in fact, my name wasn’t on it. Phew! It would have been too embarrassing to do a speech in front of someone I knew. But you can see where this is going. On Friday, I arrived at the required classroom, only to have the door opened by Matthieu himself. No, it wasn’t possible! He had promised me it wouldn’t be him. “J’attends Margaret Ewing. Tu la connais?” (I’m waiting for Margaret Ewing. Do you know her?) I thought he was kidding, but after a second a realised he was quite serious. I forget that people don’t know my real name. “C’est moi!” He didn’t believe me. “Mais non.” “Mais si!” It wasn’t until I walked past him into the classroom that he realised what had happened. “Margaret Anne. Margaret. Anne. Annie. C’est toi???” Neither of us could stop laughing for a good five minutes. As horrifying as it was to have to present a press article in front of a friend, it was such a good joke that it was hard to be too torn up about it. At the end of the exam, the other exam attendant said “au revoir,” but Matthieu and I looked at each other and said awkwardly “ben… à ce soir, probablement” (well…see you tonight, probably).
And so we did! We all finished off the term in high style. My friend Élise, one of the monitrices, had a little soirée at her apartment. Several of the other monitrices were there, as well as Canadian Matt, his Japanese roommate Keisuke, and Élise’s brother Julien. After a couple hours there, we headed out to the Rue Bressigny, the rue des soifs (street for drinkers - so nicknamed due to its many bars). There we met up with a bunch more people, and laughed and chatted until closing. First thing the next morning (7am) Matt and I were to take a train to the Alps for a week of skiing. The bar we were at closed at 2, and Matt suggested that we forget about sleeping and just keep the night going. There is one dance club in the city centre called Le Bolero. Several of us were keen to carry on, and so we did. The wait to get into the bar was a little brutal, but once inside, it was fun. I didn’t know what to expect, but it was just a collection of dance floors populated by groups of friends shimmying the night away. At 4 something a.m. I decided that I really needed a few minutes of sleep at least, so I biked back home. I got 45 minutes before my alarm clock sounded. Rather a miracle I got out of bed, but I made it to the train station in good time. Quite a night.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Photos!
C'est la semaine des examens. Alors, I procrastinate by giving you photos to look at!
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| Soirée Internationale - Korean presentation |
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| A couple of Japanese friends: Keiko and Yuri |
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| The beautiful monitrices! |
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| The handsome boys - Adrien et Matthieu |
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| Becky and Melissa, last night with us all together :( |
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| Becky, Melissa, me, Jamie, and Carolyn |
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| Galleries Lafayettes, all decorated for Christmas |
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| Centre Ville in its festive glory |
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| Marché de Noël, first thing in the morning |
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| The Grand Théâtre |
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| Chez Matthieu for a little fun |
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| Aurélien, Laura, Matthieu |
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| Matthieu found the thingy inside the Galette des Rois, hence the crown |
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| Why so serious?? |
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| Matt (Canadian) and Kelli (American) |
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| Chez Aurélien for a little mid-day feast |
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| And another Galette des Rois |
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| We all got to try the crown on for size |
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| One of the most beautiful streets in Angers, with some of the old aristocratic houses |
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Bonne Année!*
*Happy New Year!
I'm back in France! My Christmas holiday was so lovely, but I was actually excited to come back. My first few days were really strange. My roommates Jamie and Melissa have gone home, as well as all sorts of other good friends. Most of my classes have been chopped in half because of the number of students who've left. But there's only one more week of classes to go, then a week of exams, and then the semester is done. I find I prefer having my exams a few weeks after Christmas because it means you don't have that added stress before the holidays. And considering I'm not one for studying far in advance, I wasn't worrying about them while I was home either.
I'm really quite sad that my langue class is ending. I think it's been my favourite university class so far. It's been kind of fun having a smaller number of students than usual in that class. During the first week back, our professor Florence showed us a French tradition. Throughout the month of January, the French eat these cakes called Les Galettes des Rois. There are two kinds: one is like a sweet bread and the other is an almond pastry. Each cake comes with a paper crown, and inside the cake is baked a little porcelain figure called la fève. The youngest person in the room sits under the table (so they can't see the cake) while someone else cuts it. The youngest person then decides who gets which piece. Whoever gets la fève is the king/queen, and they must wear the crown. At the end of the meal, they pick a queen/king and faire la bise (cheek kisses) to that person. I've taken part in that 3 times now - once in class, once at my friend Matthieu's, and once at Aurélien's.
It's been bloody warm here the past couple of weeks. I've been wearing my spring jacket, and even then I'm hot. It's usually around 13 degrees during the day. Some of the locals tell me that it's not usual weather, but then, all of Europe has had unusual weather for the past 5 years or so, so unusual is the new usual. I'm not complaining though - there's nothing lovelier than it being sunny, warm, and flying down the road on your bicycle when you're in a good mood.
Two wonderful weekends to catch up on. Last Saturday Matt, Laura, Aurélien, and I went to Matthieu and Adrien's. They taught us a game that's a mix of that game where you have to describe a word without saying it, and charades. Oh my goodness it was funny. We had everything from abortion to fireworks to blushing. We played a bit of charades itself too. Matthieu made me act out Brokeback Mountain. I tried acting out a sheep to suggest the shepherding part of the movie, but when I got down on all fours... well... anyway. Matthieu in turn acted out Home Alone. You know the part when Macaulay Culkin puts on his father's aftershave? Matthieu's face was perfect. Highly expressive. We just laughed and laughed and laughed. These boys are so sweet and charming. They've each spent a semester abroad in the States and are fluent in English. They work as moniteurs, that's to say they each teach an oral expression class at CIDEF. I learn more from hanging out with them than I do in many of my classes. And little cultural things too, like last night we had a long conversation about la bise, the cheek kiss. It really is an important social ritual, and you can offend people if you don't greet them or say goodbye to them with cheek kisses. Oopsies. I often forget to do it unless someone else initiates it. If you're my age, you're basically supposed to cheek kiss everyone you meet. You start off by just touching cheeks and making a little kissy sound, but if you know them well you can actually go in for the lips to cheek kiss. If there are twenty people in the room, you may find yourself having to go around to every single person. Compliqué! I find it's a nice way to acknowledge someone to whom you would otherwise just wave awkwardly while you're standing a few feet in front of them, but for someone I know well, I really just want to give them a big squeeze. When I feel so inclined, I'll usually do the bises and then say, "And a Canadian hug too!"
Last night we all went back to Matthieu's place and had another excellent night of drinking wine. We played the card game King's Cup, where each card drawn has some game involved. One of the best games was the one where whenever someone drew a 5, we'd have to switch to English or to French, depending on what we'd been speaking before, and anyone who spoke a word of the wrong language would lose. We ended up staying at Matthieu's until 2:30 am or something. My host family was all laughing at me today because they heard me come in at 3 in the morning, rattling my keys and bustling around far too loudly. Merde. Just a little embarrassing.
I have two new roommates now, Liz from Manchester, England and Bianca from Switzerland. They're both really lovely girls. Bianca is only staying until the end of January, which is a shame, but Liz will be around until June. We don't all cross paths very often because our schedules are pretty different, but it's nice to know they're around.
Oooh last Tuesday, I did something so nerdy it was fantastic. Laura, Aurélien and I went to the Grand Théâtre to see a choral concert by the British choir Oxford Voices. They specialise in 16th Century music, but they also did a few Christmas carols and some African spirituals. They were really quite good, although the acoustics of the theatre didn't carry their voices as well as a church would have. Cultural things are pretty cheap for students in France, as the government wants to encourage the rowdy youngsters to channel their enthusiasm in classier ways. One of the tenors in the choir was amazing to watch. His face was so expressive and happy that there were times we laughed out loud watching him. When the concert was over, the choir gave its second encore in the front hall of the theatre, so that they could chat with the audience members afterwards. I went up to my tenor in an unusual moment of bravery, and told him he was my favourite. He started chatting with me and Laura, and ended up inviting us out for dinner and drinks with the choir. Laura and Aurélien wanted to go get a crêpe, so I sucked up my courage and went by myself. It was a hoot. They were all so kind to this random ginger Canadian fan of theirs, and I got a free dinner of boeuf bourguignon and pommes de terre dauphinoise. And wine, naturally. My tenor and one soprano were from New Zealand, and the rest from Britain. They were so funny. To think I almost chickened out of joining them, but Laura said (in front of the tenor) that I would regret not going. So, carpe diem! That's going to be my New Years' Resolution. Seize every damn day I have here, because if I don't, what on earth did I come to France for?
Oh gosh, one last thing I must mention. Last weekend Laura and I went to a cooking class! We learned how to make chocolate macarons and crêpe suzette. To dieeee for. I am a veritable Julia Child now. Iron Chef, here comes your latest wonderchef, fresh off the streets of Angers.
Major kidding here, but seriously, it's not actually that hard to make one of the most addictive desserts in the world. Génial!!
With that, I give you all a grand bisous (that's the friendlier form of bise) and bid you all bonne soirée!
I'm back in France! My Christmas holiday was so lovely, but I was actually excited to come back. My first few days were really strange. My roommates Jamie and Melissa have gone home, as well as all sorts of other good friends. Most of my classes have been chopped in half because of the number of students who've left. But there's only one more week of classes to go, then a week of exams, and then the semester is done. I find I prefer having my exams a few weeks after Christmas because it means you don't have that added stress before the holidays. And considering I'm not one for studying far in advance, I wasn't worrying about them while I was home either.
I'm really quite sad that my langue class is ending. I think it's been my favourite university class so far. It's been kind of fun having a smaller number of students than usual in that class. During the first week back, our professor Florence showed us a French tradition. Throughout the month of January, the French eat these cakes called Les Galettes des Rois. There are two kinds: one is like a sweet bread and the other is an almond pastry. Each cake comes with a paper crown, and inside the cake is baked a little porcelain figure called la fève. The youngest person in the room sits under the table (so they can't see the cake) while someone else cuts it. The youngest person then decides who gets which piece. Whoever gets la fève is the king/queen, and they must wear the crown. At the end of the meal, they pick a queen/king and faire la bise (cheek kisses) to that person. I've taken part in that 3 times now - once in class, once at my friend Matthieu's, and once at Aurélien's.
It's been bloody warm here the past couple of weeks. I've been wearing my spring jacket, and even then I'm hot. It's usually around 13 degrees during the day. Some of the locals tell me that it's not usual weather, but then, all of Europe has had unusual weather for the past 5 years or so, so unusual is the new usual. I'm not complaining though - there's nothing lovelier than it being sunny, warm, and flying down the road on your bicycle when you're in a good mood.
Two wonderful weekends to catch up on. Last Saturday Matt, Laura, Aurélien, and I went to Matthieu and Adrien's. They taught us a game that's a mix of that game where you have to describe a word without saying it, and charades. Oh my goodness it was funny. We had everything from abortion to fireworks to blushing. We played a bit of charades itself too. Matthieu made me act out Brokeback Mountain. I tried acting out a sheep to suggest the shepherding part of the movie, but when I got down on all fours... well... anyway. Matthieu in turn acted out Home Alone. You know the part when Macaulay Culkin puts on his father's aftershave? Matthieu's face was perfect. Highly expressive. We just laughed and laughed and laughed. These boys are so sweet and charming. They've each spent a semester abroad in the States and are fluent in English. They work as moniteurs, that's to say they each teach an oral expression class at CIDEF. I learn more from hanging out with them than I do in many of my classes. And little cultural things too, like last night we had a long conversation about la bise, the cheek kiss. It really is an important social ritual, and you can offend people if you don't greet them or say goodbye to them with cheek kisses. Oopsies. I often forget to do it unless someone else initiates it. If you're my age, you're basically supposed to cheek kiss everyone you meet. You start off by just touching cheeks and making a little kissy sound, but if you know them well you can actually go in for the lips to cheek kiss. If there are twenty people in the room, you may find yourself having to go around to every single person. Compliqué! I find it's a nice way to acknowledge someone to whom you would otherwise just wave awkwardly while you're standing a few feet in front of them, but for someone I know well, I really just want to give them a big squeeze. When I feel so inclined, I'll usually do the bises and then say, "And a Canadian hug too!"
Last night we all went back to Matthieu's place and had another excellent night of drinking wine. We played the card game King's Cup, where each card drawn has some game involved. One of the best games was the one where whenever someone drew a 5, we'd have to switch to English or to French, depending on what we'd been speaking before, and anyone who spoke a word of the wrong language would lose. We ended up staying at Matthieu's until 2:30 am or something. My host family was all laughing at me today because they heard me come in at 3 in the morning, rattling my keys and bustling around far too loudly. Merde. Just a little embarrassing.
I have two new roommates now, Liz from Manchester, England and Bianca from Switzerland. They're both really lovely girls. Bianca is only staying until the end of January, which is a shame, but Liz will be around until June. We don't all cross paths very often because our schedules are pretty different, but it's nice to know they're around.
Oooh last Tuesday, I did something so nerdy it was fantastic. Laura, Aurélien and I went to the Grand Théâtre to see a choral concert by the British choir Oxford Voices. They specialise in 16th Century music, but they also did a few Christmas carols and some African spirituals. They were really quite good, although the acoustics of the theatre didn't carry their voices as well as a church would have. Cultural things are pretty cheap for students in France, as the government wants to encourage the rowdy youngsters to channel their enthusiasm in classier ways. One of the tenors in the choir was amazing to watch. His face was so expressive and happy that there were times we laughed out loud watching him. When the concert was over, the choir gave its second encore in the front hall of the theatre, so that they could chat with the audience members afterwards. I went up to my tenor in an unusual moment of bravery, and told him he was my favourite. He started chatting with me and Laura, and ended up inviting us out for dinner and drinks with the choir. Laura and Aurélien wanted to go get a crêpe, so I sucked up my courage and went by myself. It was a hoot. They were all so kind to this random ginger Canadian fan of theirs, and I got a free dinner of boeuf bourguignon and pommes de terre dauphinoise. And wine, naturally. My tenor and one soprano were from New Zealand, and the rest from Britain. They were so funny. To think I almost chickened out of joining them, but Laura said (in front of the tenor) that I would regret not going. So, carpe diem! That's going to be my New Years' Resolution. Seize every damn day I have here, because if I don't, what on earth did I come to France for?
Oh gosh, one last thing I must mention. Last weekend Laura and I went to a cooking class! We learned how to make chocolate macarons and crêpe suzette. To dieeee for. I am a veritable Julia Child now. Iron Chef, here comes your latest wonderchef, fresh off the streets of Angers.
Major kidding here, but seriously, it's not actually that hard to make one of the most addictive desserts in the world. Génial!!
With that, I give you all a grand bisous (that's the friendlier form of bise) and bid you all bonne soirée!
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."
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."
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Être reconnaissant de (partie 2)
To continue, I went over to Dave and Jenna's with my mashed potato ingredients. They live just on the other side of my neighbourhood, but somehow I'd never made it chez eux (to their place) before then. They welcomed me in with a glass of Beaujolais Nouveau (hm.. guess I didn't tell that story either. I'll get to that). We chatted and cooked, and after a little while Laura come over too. When we were finished, the four of us piled into a cab and sped away to the bus station. We pulled up to our bus with only a minute to spare before it took off. Maëlle lives out in the country, a little bit east of Angers. The bus stop nearest her house, where we were to wait for her, was surrounded by fields and woods. Maëlle came to pick us up and drove us to her house. It was such a delicious, homey atmosphere inside! Her parents were joining us, as well as her friends Matt and Adrien. Everyone had contributed something - sweet potatoes, cranberries, cheese, cake, veggies, and most importantly the turkey! Maëlle had searched hard for a whole bird, but apparently you can only get them at Christmas unless you pre-order. A turkey dinner is even more of a special occasion meal in France. Nevertheless, she found several large cuisses (thighs) at the market. She'd also collected real vines and autumn leaves to lay elegantly along the length of the table, interspersed with a candle or two. There was such a feeling of contentment and friendliness. We spoke French for the whole meal, which was great practice. Between the main course and dessert, Maëlle's sister Solène removed herself to the piano and began to play. The rest of us melted into the furniture, admiring the music and soaking up the evening. By midnight it was time to leave, so everyone bisous-ed (cheek kissing) everyone else, and we got back into Maëlle's car. "Je suis contente," I said, as we drove back into town. Everyone else smiled or hummed their agreement. What an evening.
Now, one would think that having two Thanksgivings makes me quite lucky already. Won't you be jealous when I say I had three! My friend Becky announced that she was inviting all the other Michiganders over, along with me, Laura, Matt, and Aurélien. It was another potluck, so I decided to continue with my potato trend. We squished into Becky's kitchen, some of us cooking and preparing, and everyone drinking wine and enjoying the good conversation. When all the food was done, it was yet another feast. Platters and bowls of deliciousness, and Becky provided the turkey. Mmmmmmmmm. We really appreciate the moments when we get to visit people at their houses here, because for the most part our host families aren't comfortable with their students inviting people over. Becky's family, however, is quite relaxed. I was a little sad, because I had to rush through the meal. I was meeting Bénédicte to see Harry Potter at 8:30, so I couldn't take my time. Still, it was such a wonderful evening.
Now, a little note about Beajolais Nouveau. It's a wine that has only been fermenting for a few weeks, and so is very new by wine standards (trust me, I know absolutely nothing about wine, zippo, zilch, rien, but one does pick up a piece of information or two now and then in this country). It's quite light and fruity, but more than anything, it's a party. The day that it is first sold (third Thursday in November, I believe) is a chance for the French to hit the bar or to dine at a friend's house to taste the first bottles. My roommate Jamie and I thought this would be an easy way to assimilate with the natives, so off to the bar we went. At 10 euros a bottle, it was actually rather expensive as wine goes here (you can get a perfectly decent bottle for 2 euros, one that you wouldn't be embarrassed to give to a friend). But, we got a cup of sausage slices as part of the deal. Angers is the home of some really excellent saucisson. Anyway, we sat ourselves down in a booth and settled in to enjoy our night and our wine. After a little while, we were joined by a few friendly French boys. They were kind of drunk, but then so were we, so we were glad of their company. They were students at the University of Angers, and were very excited and proud that we loved their city. After a few hours spent with them (and long after the bottle was finished), Jamie and I decided that it was probably best to call it a night. We wobbled our way back to our bicycles and (rather miraculously) made it home in one piece, feeling very much satisfied by the night's events.
Ok, one last point before I leave to get some homework done. On Rue Bressigny, where all those international bars are, there is also the most wonderful crêperie. The front room of the restaurant looks kind of german, with dark wood, whitewashed walls, and exposed-beam ceilings. The ladies who work there are so sweet. Laura and I have made a habit of going there about once a week (well... that might be a gross underestimation) for a little crêpe dessert and a little girl talk. I had started by ordering one called the Liégoise, a deadly combination of chocolate, whipped cream, and almond flakes. And as good as that is, what turns out to be even BETTER is the house caramel. Hot, salted, buttery caramel absolutely flooding the crepe. Ooh my goodness it's good. If any of you come to visit me, I will take you to this restaurant, and I will buy you this crepe. I promise. The waitresses are all very clever. Once we've finished our first crepe, they ask, "Vous voulez une autre petite crêpe?" Well, since you're asking... If you QUITE insist... I've also been to this place for lunch with Jamie, Melissa, and Becky on some of their weekly Friday lunch excursions. The gallettes at this place are excellent as well. I think I've already talked about gallettes, but to remind you, they are the non-sweet version of a crepe. You pick the ingredients like cheese, ham, egg, veggies, etc. and it comes all folded up like a nice little package.
That being said, I've got to get some homework done as in fact, at 8pm tonight I am supposed to venture out into the torrential downpour to go meet the girls at the crêperie, and then off to meet with Bénédicte. More to come soon, as I've still got two weekends to catch up on!
Now, one would think that having two Thanksgivings makes me quite lucky already. Won't you be jealous when I say I had three! My friend Becky announced that she was inviting all the other Michiganders over, along with me, Laura, Matt, and Aurélien. It was another potluck, so I decided to continue with my potato trend. We squished into Becky's kitchen, some of us cooking and preparing, and everyone drinking wine and enjoying the good conversation. When all the food was done, it was yet another feast. Platters and bowls of deliciousness, and Becky provided the turkey. Mmmmmmmmm. We really appreciate the moments when we get to visit people at their houses here, because for the most part our host families aren't comfortable with their students inviting people over. Becky's family, however, is quite relaxed. I was a little sad, because I had to rush through the meal. I was meeting Bénédicte to see Harry Potter at 8:30, so I couldn't take my time. Still, it was such a wonderful evening.
Now, a little note about Beajolais Nouveau. It's a wine that has only been fermenting for a few weeks, and so is very new by wine standards (trust me, I know absolutely nothing about wine, zippo, zilch, rien, but one does pick up a piece of information or two now and then in this country). It's quite light and fruity, but more than anything, it's a party. The day that it is first sold (third Thursday in November, I believe) is a chance for the French to hit the bar or to dine at a friend's house to taste the first bottles. My roommate Jamie and I thought this would be an easy way to assimilate with the natives, so off to the bar we went. At 10 euros a bottle, it was actually rather expensive as wine goes here (you can get a perfectly decent bottle for 2 euros, one that you wouldn't be embarrassed to give to a friend). But, we got a cup of sausage slices as part of the deal. Angers is the home of some really excellent saucisson. Anyway, we sat ourselves down in a booth and settled in to enjoy our night and our wine. After a little while, we were joined by a few friendly French boys. They were kind of drunk, but then so were we, so we were glad of their company. They were students at the University of Angers, and were very excited and proud that we loved their city. After a few hours spent with them (and long after the bottle was finished), Jamie and I decided that it was probably best to call it a night. We wobbled our way back to our bicycles and (rather miraculously) made it home in one piece, feeling very much satisfied by the night's events.
Ok, one last point before I leave to get some homework done. On Rue Bressigny, where all those international bars are, there is also the most wonderful crêperie. The front room of the restaurant looks kind of german, with dark wood, whitewashed walls, and exposed-beam ceilings. The ladies who work there are so sweet. Laura and I have made a habit of going there about once a week (well... that might be a gross underestimation) for a little crêpe dessert and a little girl talk. I had started by ordering one called the Liégoise, a deadly combination of chocolate, whipped cream, and almond flakes. And as good as that is, what turns out to be even BETTER is the house caramel. Hot, salted, buttery caramel absolutely flooding the crepe. Ooh my goodness it's good. If any of you come to visit me, I will take you to this restaurant, and I will buy you this crepe. I promise. The waitresses are all very clever. Once we've finished our first crepe, they ask, "Vous voulez une autre petite crêpe?" Well, since you're asking... If you QUITE insist... I've also been to this place for lunch with Jamie, Melissa, and Becky on some of their weekly Friday lunch excursions. The gallettes at this place are excellent as well. I think I've already talked about gallettes, but to remind you, they are the non-sweet version of a crepe. You pick the ingredients like cheese, ham, egg, veggies, etc. and it comes all folded up like a nice little package.
That being said, I've got to get some homework done as in fact, at 8pm tonight I am supposed to venture out into the torrential downpour to go meet the girls at the crêperie, and then off to meet with Bénédicte. More to come soon, as I've still got two weekends to catch up on!
Monday, December 6, 2010
Être reconnaissant de*
*To be thankful for
Apologies, as usual, for the lack of recent updates. Busy busy busy times here!
The week following my trip to Belgium already seems so far away that I can't remember much of what went on. I do, however, have a couple stories to offer. On Wednesday morning of that week, I went to the science faculty building to help my langue professor out with the English class she teaches there. Jamie and another CIDEF student were there as well, and it was our job to engage these French students in English conversations. As it was an English class, I got to hear my langue prof speaking to her class in English. It was simultaneously wonderful and bizarre! She told me after that she used to have a British boyfriend, and that she's lived in the States, which is why her accent sounded almost Australian. It was so curious, and I couldn't stop myself laughing. The first group of students was less than enthusiastic. Their level of English was moyen, and they were only in the class because they had to take it for their programme. Talking to them was a bit like pulling teeth. I often got asked if I could speak French, and if so, could we just skip the whole English bit, thanks. The second group was much more keen, and of a much higher level. More CIDEF students showed up, so we were able to talk to the students one on one rather than in groups. It was kind of like speed dating - 5 minutes per couple to get in as much small talk as possible. It was an entertaining experience.
Another thing that happened in the week following Belgium was that I met my conversation partner! I had signed up a couple weeks beforehand to be paired up with a French person with whom I could practise some French and he/she some English. My partner's name is Bénédicte, and she's lovely. She's in her first year of uni at La Catho (my university here). We met at the bar K'Lypso on the Tuesday, and she brought a group of friends with her. We ended up speaking more French than English, but I think it was a success for her anyway. She's learning English, German, AND Russian. Sheesh. Béné and I have also met up at the Saturday morning market and we went to Harry Potter 7 together. (Little side note on Harry Potter 7.... AYEEEEEEE IT WAS SO GOOD. The actors were so much better at their acting, and the scenes actually had time to se déroullent (play out), rather than the audience being shown little tantalizing tastes of scenes that never properly developed. Would you be surprised if I told you I went to see the movie again the next night? No, eh?)
On Saturday the 20th, I had the most wonderful day. I got up first thing to go to the Jardin du Mail market with Melissa, and we met Becky and Béné there. We loaded up with all sorts of lovely fresh veggies to make a hearty winter soup! Leeks, tomatoes, potatoes, zucchini, onions, garlic, carrots... Gosh, the market just makes me so happy. People pushing and shouting, picking up the produce, examining it, then either deciding it's not what they want and putting it back, or adding it to their little wheeled cart. The food is so colourful, so full of potential. You can just imagine what kinds of repas (meals) people are going to make with them. And some times the vendors hold out little taste testers of their products. Almost all of the food comes from France, or from the French territories (Martinique, Guadaloupe, Réunion, etc.) It's easy to find big luscious apples right from the Loire Valley, or carrots covered in local dirt. I like to take my time with the food, meandering from stall to stall and having a good look around. Once I've done a loop of the market, I go back to the places where I remember seeing the best-looking products for the lowest price. It's like a little game, a game that makes me feel like just another local. What sets me off from the real French is that I never have the right change, and I always have to spend 2349854 years searching through my little wallet for the change that has drowned to the bottom beneath my cards. I find that French salespeople are unusually particular about receiving exact change from a customer.
But back to that Saturday, once we'd gotten all our supplies, Melissa and I made our way back home to do some cooking. Jamie joined us with a baguette and some cheese, so we feasted away while we cooked. We needed a soundtrack to our culinary adventure, and somehow the appropriate playlist seemed to be Christmas songs. It was time to break out in a little festive spirit. We danced and sang along to all the greats while chopping carrots, peeling potatoes, and caramelising our onions. It took a while for our soup to come together, but it was marvelous when it did. Round, hearty, and soul-satisfying on a cold early winter day. I had to leave by about 4pm, however, in order to go to Dave and Jenna's (two former StFX students who are here doing a gap-year before real life starts). All the Canadians had been invited to our French friend Maëlle's house (she was a monitrice in September) for a Franco-Americano-Canadian Thanksgiving. Maëlle and her sister Solène had joined us for our Canadian Thanksgiving back in October, so she returned the favour nearer the American date. It was a pot-luck, and I was to bring the mashed potatoes. I brought my supplies of potatoes, Boursin cheese, garlic, and cream over to Dave and Jenna's for a little pre-party cooking fun.
Oh, and I just realised what time it is. I've got to go get ready for school, so this post is to be continued!
Apologies, as usual, for the lack of recent updates. Busy busy busy times here!
The week following my trip to Belgium already seems so far away that I can't remember much of what went on. I do, however, have a couple stories to offer. On Wednesday morning of that week, I went to the science faculty building to help my langue professor out with the English class she teaches there. Jamie and another CIDEF student were there as well, and it was our job to engage these French students in English conversations. As it was an English class, I got to hear my langue prof speaking to her class in English. It was simultaneously wonderful and bizarre! She told me after that she used to have a British boyfriend, and that she's lived in the States, which is why her accent sounded almost Australian. It was so curious, and I couldn't stop myself laughing. The first group of students was less than enthusiastic. Their level of English was moyen, and they were only in the class because they had to take it for their programme. Talking to them was a bit like pulling teeth. I often got asked if I could speak French, and if so, could we just skip the whole English bit, thanks. The second group was much more keen, and of a much higher level. More CIDEF students showed up, so we were able to talk to the students one on one rather than in groups. It was kind of like speed dating - 5 minutes per couple to get in as much small talk as possible. It was an entertaining experience.
Another thing that happened in the week following Belgium was that I met my conversation partner! I had signed up a couple weeks beforehand to be paired up with a French person with whom I could practise some French and he/she some English. My partner's name is Bénédicte, and she's lovely. She's in her first year of uni at La Catho (my university here). We met at the bar K'Lypso on the Tuesday, and she brought a group of friends with her. We ended up speaking more French than English, but I think it was a success for her anyway. She's learning English, German, AND Russian. Sheesh. Béné and I have also met up at the Saturday morning market and we went to Harry Potter 7 together. (Little side note on Harry Potter 7.... AYEEEEEEE IT WAS SO GOOD. The actors were so much better at their acting, and the scenes actually had time to se déroullent (play out), rather than the audience being shown little tantalizing tastes of scenes that never properly developed. Would you be surprised if I told you I went to see the movie again the next night? No, eh?)
On Saturday the 20th, I had the most wonderful day. I got up first thing to go to the Jardin du Mail market with Melissa, and we met Becky and Béné there. We loaded up with all sorts of lovely fresh veggies to make a hearty winter soup! Leeks, tomatoes, potatoes, zucchini, onions, garlic, carrots... Gosh, the market just makes me so happy. People pushing and shouting, picking up the produce, examining it, then either deciding it's not what they want and putting it back, or adding it to their little wheeled cart. The food is so colourful, so full of potential. You can just imagine what kinds of repas (meals) people are going to make with them. And some times the vendors hold out little taste testers of their products. Almost all of the food comes from France, or from the French territories (Martinique, Guadaloupe, Réunion, etc.) It's easy to find big luscious apples right from the Loire Valley, or carrots covered in local dirt. I like to take my time with the food, meandering from stall to stall and having a good look around. Once I've done a loop of the market, I go back to the places where I remember seeing the best-looking products for the lowest price. It's like a little game, a game that makes me feel like just another local. What sets me off from the real French is that I never have the right change, and I always have to spend 2349854 years searching through my little wallet for the change that has drowned to the bottom beneath my cards. I find that French salespeople are unusually particular about receiving exact change from a customer.
But back to that Saturday, once we'd gotten all our supplies, Melissa and I made our way back home to do some cooking. Jamie joined us with a baguette and some cheese, so we feasted away while we cooked. We needed a soundtrack to our culinary adventure, and somehow the appropriate playlist seemed to be Christmas songs. It was time to break out in a little festive spirit. We danced and sang along to all the greats while chopping carrots, peeling potatoes, and caramelising our onions. It took a while for our soup to come together, but it was marvelous when it did. Round, hearty, and soul-satisfying on a cold early winter day. I had to leave by about 4pm, however, in order to go to Dave and Jenna's (two former StFX students who are here doing a gap-year before real life starts). All the Canadians had been invited to our French friend Maëlle's house (she was a monitrice in September) for a Franco-Americano-Canadian Thanksgiving. Maëlle and her sister Solène had joined us for our Canadian Thanksgiving back in October, so she returned the favour nearer the American date. It was a pot-luck, and I was to bring the mashed potatoes. I brought my supplies of potatoes, Boursin cheese, garlic, and cream over to Dave and Jenna's for a little pre-party cooking fun.
Oh, and I just realised what time it is. I've got to go get ready for school, so this post is to be continued!
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Photos encore
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| The weather was delightful. By the time this picture was taken, I was on my 3rd umbrella. It's my first picture. |
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| Un petit peu de chocolat |
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| Cherry Beer... |
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| Voilà la Grand Place |
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| Mannekin-Pis in all his glory |
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| Galleries St-Hubert, the covered shopping street |
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| Cathedral |
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| From left to right: Me, Matt, Katie, Melissa, Vince, Jessica, and Becky |
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| Palais de Justice |
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| I know it's blurry, but you can kind of see how beautiful this ceiling was! |
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| YUM |
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| The Annunciation, Pieter Brueghel the Elder |
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| Winter Lanscape with a Bird Trap, Pieter Brueghel the Elder |
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| The Battle of Carnival and Lent, Pieter Brueghel the Younger |
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| Marat Assassinated, Jacques-Louis David |
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| Off to Bruges! |
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| Tour of the brewery, our fabulous guide |
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| The Beer Temple: Belgium's version of The Beer Store |
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| Brussels: Graveyard of umbrellas |
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