I have mentioned before that my photography professor, Andy, is British. What you don't know about this wild man is that he doesn't like the French and he doesn't much care for Paris. In preparation for coming to Paris he had much to say about his favorite things to hate about the natives.
I am making it sound stronger than it really is, but still, it had its effect on the students. Several of us (I'm ashamed to say including myself) were starting to drag our feet about coming--to one of the most beautiful, bustling cities in the world.
Boy was Andy wrong.
Day 3 of our Paris excursion is half over. I feel as though I were an empty cup that's been filled to the brim with culture. It was a dramatic assimulation between the pace of village of 300 to a city with over 2 million human beings.
One of the main highlights has been interacting with Parisians. Parisians aren't really Parisians--most people I meet are originally from some other country--especially in N. Africa and all over Europe. On our first day here, my two best mates, Anna, Sherin and I wandered through the Montmartre district. In the middle of the afternoon, we found a cafe and had a beverage (I drink sparkling water every day in France--hoorah!). After paying our bill, we struck up a conversation with two gentlemen who were also having a drink. One of them asked me how I was doing in Spanish. I answered in like tongue. Sherin's first language is Spanish, so the conversation started to fly. Then they offered to buy us all a drink--waters and coke all around. One fellow was from Spain and the other from Nigeria. One spoke French, the other spoke Spanish. Neither of them spoke English very well. So, we pieced together a conversation in at least three different languages. Where words failed, we smiled and laughed. In the end, we took pictures together and they made us promise to send copies once we returned to Lacoste.
Anna and I had dinner last night at a restaurant called the Hippo. In the European way, it lasted for two hours. At the end of the night, we struck up a conversation with the two gentlemen next to us. No, not THAT kind of conversation. They heard us speaking English and struggling with French and wanted to know where we were from. One of the fellows, in particular, had a GREAT deal to say about America. Brace yourselves. You know the stereotype is that the French hate Americans. There is much truth behind this.
Let me give you the condensed version of this conversation. The fellow said that he very much respects Americans because he considers them pragmatic--they are good business people, they know how to make money and take care of their own and they are ambitious. He says that when Americans decide that something in society needs to change--they just DO IT. Americans are survivors. The French like to write books and philosophize--read and study, think and ponder--but not actively do something about their problems. The older generation still clings to their traditions, but the younger generation is beginning to want to change their ways. He also believed firmly in young people living in big cities because it forces them to live with people unlike themselves. He talked about clinging to traditions and said that this causes people to have small hearts and small brains. In the end, he said to me and I quote "I want you to tell the other Americans that there are French people who like them and Arab people as well." Incidentally, he was French, but of Arab descent.
We are grappling with new languages, new thoughts, a new way of life. Any few words that I can communicate to someone else (besides my American friends) are like a jewel in my palm. Expression and communication and understanding seem so precious--it's creating a hightened sense of living.
Well, my timer is telling me that I am about to run out of time at the internet cafe. I hope that you are all doing well and enjoying the English language.
27 April 2007
23 April 2007
Silence
I've lost the bug to blog lately, but I am hoping to get back to it here shortly.
BUT not before we go to Paris on Wednesday, hopefully survive the Parisians and return home safely on Sunday.
Last week was hectic to say the least. A lot of wonderful things happened.
I divulge the details soon and be posting more photos.
Cheers!
~Hildegarde
BUT not before we go to Paris on Wednesday, hopefully survive the Parisians and return home safely on Sunday.
Last week was hectic to say the least. A lot of wonderful things happened.
I divulge the details soon and be posting more photos.
Cheers!
~Hildegarde
11 April 2007
No Mountain Goats Today
Today's adventure involved driving 1.5 hours to reach a famous mountain--Mont Ventoux, well known for its use in the Tour de France. It's around 5,700ft. high. We drove most of the way up, parked and hiked and weaved our way up two miles. It was quite an experience.
It took about 1.5 hours to reach the summit, but was well worth the effort. I was able to view the French, Italian and Swiss Alps all within a small turn. Each time I walked a little bit further and turned around to see the view beside or behind me it had changed drastically.
The hike was quite steep and very intense (I'm feeling the burn in my calves tonight). Sadly, I was passed up by more than a few times by bikers who PEDDLED faster than the pedestrians walked. The higher we went, the colder and more windy it became (obviously), until we found snow still left over from winter. They've experienced 250mph jetstreams atop Mont Ventoux.
I did reach the top (and besides the pain) I am enjoying a nice sense of satisfaction for having completed the task. If you visit Provence, put this trip on your to do list.
Yes, pictures to follow.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mont_Ventoux
It took about 1.5 hours to reach the summit, but was well worth the effort. I was able to view the French, Italian and Swiss Alps all within a small turn. Each time I walked a little bit further and turned around to see the view beside or behind me it had changed drastically.
The hike was quite steep and very intense (I'm feeling the burn in my calves tonight). Sadly, I was passed up by more than a few times by bikers who PEDDLED faster than the pedestrians walked. The higher we went, the colder and more windy it became (obviously), until we found snow still left over from winter. They've experienced 250mph jetstreams atop Mont Ventoux.
I did reach the top (and besides the pain) I am enjoying a nice sense of satisfaction for having completed the task. If you visit Provence, put this trip on your to do list.
Yes, pictures to follow.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mont_Ventoux
The Promised Pictures
I have been reminded that I forgot to add the pictures from Monday's travels.
Here they are...enjoy.
Fort de Buoux
http://www.beyond.fr/sites/buouxfort.html#tombs
Climbing up to the village
Climbing higher--what remains of a town
C'est moi.
Those little round holes on the left are silos for
food and water. This fortress would have been
able to withstand a siege for an entire year.
The stairs we came down
The view from the VERY top
We stopped at a little village called Saignon
at the end of the day...
French gravesite
Saignon...
Here they are...enjoy.
Fort de Buoux
http://www.beyond.fr/sites/buouxfort.html#tombs
Climbing up to the village
Climbing higher--what remains of a town
C'est moi.
Those little round holes on the left are silos for
food and water. This fortress would have been
able to withstand a siege for an entire year.
The stairs we came down
The view from the VERY top
We stopped at a little village called Saignon
at the end of the day...
French gravesite
Saignon...
09 April 2007
Creme de la Creme
Well, I thought Lacoste was breathtaking. It is or it was.
I traveled to an area of even higher elevation, to a hilltop town that was destroyed during the Religious Wars of the 16 & 17th centuries. It is destitute--nothing left but rocks and rubble--and an eerie emptiness. We hiked several miles, and kept climbing and climbing until we reached the highest peak possible--where I could see for miles out. It was incredible.
There were French tourists all over today, as it is a national holiday. Yes, another day off. They were out and about with their families, sight-seeing and picnicking.
I will post pictures tomorrow.
I have a great deal of sun on my face, exhaustion in my legs and feet and joy in my heart.
It really seems like it is wrong for school to be this much fun.
I am seeing the world. My voyage is opening doors in my mind and stretching me in every direction at once. This experience is sowing oh so many seeds in the soil of my soul--that will some day bear much fruit (I hope).
I traveled to an area of even higher elevation, to a hilltop town that was destroyed during the Religious Wars of the 16 & 17th centuries. It is destitute--nothing left but rocks and rubble--and an eerie emptiness. We hiked several miles, and kept climbing and climbing until we reached the highest peak possible--where I could see for miles out. It was incredible.
There were French tourists all over today, as it is a national holiday. Yes, another day off. They were out and about with their families, sight-seeing and picnicking.
I will post pictures tomorrow.
I have a great deal of sun on my face, exhaustion in my legs and feet and joy in my heart.
It really seems like it is wrong for school to be this much fun.
I am seeing the world. My voyage is opening doors in my mind and stretching me in every direction at once. This experience is sowing oh so many seeds in the soil of my soul--that will some day bear much fruit (I hope).
07 April 2007
Saturday in the Park
I did my washing this morning. The sweaters, towels and socks are all hung out to dry on the line. Tonight my pajamas will smell like sunshine. There is no breakfast on Saturdays and Sundays. We have brunch, instead.
I made my way down the cobblestone path in flip flops this morning. My feet have seen enough tennis shoes for now. I save my hiking shoes for adventures in the valley.
Down at brunch, my insanely extroverted and wildly entertaining photography professor, Andy Moxon (I like to call him Moxy, but not to his face) made a grand entrance into the room, as usual. He's a Brit. Need I say more? We had a brief tete-a-tete by the fruit and cheese stand in the cove. He told me his young son loves Pepitos (French twinkies filled with chocolate). We have a stash of Pepitos in the dining hall. He said that everything his son loves inevitably ends up in bed with him, including the Pepitos. Andy said that his son's bed is 10% sleeping space and the rest is filled with books, teddy bears and toys. He said (in his thick northern English accent, which I love) "Me son wanted to take a stick to bed. He asked me 'daddy, may I take this stick to bed with me?' to which I replied, Well, I guess that's alllrigh." Andy seems to miss his son a great deal. He speaks with him every day from 7:45-8:15p.m. before the young fellow goes to bed.
My friend Mami Serwaa (from Ghana) and I were chatting about French vacations over brunch this morning. During the two months that we are here, France has at least 4 national holidays, mostly on Monday, so that they have 3.5 day weekends. They close shop early on Friday and don't come back until Tuesday.
One of the gals in our group broke several fingers this weekend. She keeps refusing to go to the hospital to have it set or splinted. This gal commented she might go Monday. I told her that Monday was a holiday and everything would be closed.
They close the emergency rooms, too. They are usually open in the morning for a few hours, but then everyone goes home. So, if you are in France and are planning on having an accident, please do so in the early morning hours. Otherwise, apparently, you are without hope.
The French have a very differently mentality about work and holidays. I told Mami that everyone takes holiday around here no matter what, to which Mami replied "But death doesn't take a holiday."
A rather true but provocative thought.
I made my way down the cobblestone path in flip flops this morning. My feet have seen enough tennis shoes for now. I save my hiking shoes for adventures in the valley.
Down at brunch, my insanely extroverted and wildly entertaining photography professor, Andy Moxon (I like to call him Moxy, but not to his face) made a grand entrance into the room, as usual. He's a Brit. Need I say more? We had a brief tete-a-tete by the fruit and cheese stand in the cove. He told me his young son loves Pepitos (French twinkies filled with chocolate). We have a stash of Pepitos in the dining hall. He said that everything his son loves inevitably ends up in bed with him, including the Pepitos. Andy said that his son's bed is 10% sleeping space and the rest is filled with books, teddy bears and toys. He said (in his thick northern English accent, which I love) "Me son wanted to take a stick to bed. He asked me 'daddy, may I take this stick to bed with me?' to which I replied, Well, I guess that's alllrigh." Andy seems to miss his son a great deal. He speaks with him every day from 7:45-8:15p.m. before the young fellow goes to bed.
My friend Mami Serwaa (from Ghana) and I were chatting about French vacations over brunch this morning. During the two months that we are here, France has at least 4 national holidays, mostly on Monday, so that they have 3.5 day weekends. They close shop early on Friday and don't come back until Tuesday.
One of the gals in our group broke several fingers this weekend. She keeps refusing to go to the hospital to have it set or splinted. This gal commented she might go Monday. I told her that Monday was a holiday and everything would be closed.
They close the emergency rooms, too. They are usually open in the morning for a few hours, but then everyone goes home. So, if you are in France and are planning on having an accident, please do so in the early morning hours. Otherwise, apparently, you are without hope.
The French have a very differently mentality about work and holidays. I told Mami that everyone takes holiday around here no matter what, to which Mami replied "But death doesn't take a holiday."
A rather true but provocative thought.
06 April 2007
Fotos from Arles
Matador and angry bull at the beginning.
Same bull, the end.
Amphitheatre, reminiscent of colloseum
My new friends at the Place du la Republique
Moi, feeling finite next to this structure
A very random French man who
jumped in front of my camera for
a spontaneous portrait.
Lacoste
A cove near my current home.
My roommate Anna, with her new 4x5 camera.
She's in love.
The path back up to town...
Easter
Have a blessed holiday and celebration on Sunday, my friends and family.
Happy Resurrection Sunday~~
Happy Resurrection Sunday~~
Bienvenue de la Arles
We took a day trip to Arles today to experience their weekend long festival, La Feria. The main event of this 3 or 4 day long festival? Bullfights. Initiated as a Spanish tradition, bullfights are now being outlawed in Spain. Presently, they are still legal in France.
This ancient ceremony was performed in a preserved Roman amphitheatre. The masses poured in to pay their 15euros to see gallantry and gore. The photography students zoomed in their lenses to capture the angry bulls trying to thrust the matadores with their horns--charging around in cirlces, occasionally ripping down the capote or mulea, trampling and biting it. Some photographed to document, some photographed to give fuel to the opponents of this sport.
I saw 6 bulls slaughtered--run until they were exhausted and dehydrated. Pierced, pinched, aggrevated and finally stabbed--the crowds cheered, oowwed and ahhd, booed, clapped, threw flowers, waved hankerchiefs.
Honestly, I'm a little stunned. A few times the bulls got their revenge and knocked the novices and trampled on top of them. However, in the end, the sword won.
It was a little taste of the Roman thirst for blood in entertainment.
This ancient ceremony was performed in a preserved Roman amphitheatre. The masses poured in to pay their 15euros to see gallantry and gore. The photography students zoomed in their lenses to capture the angry bulls trying to thrust the matadores with their horns--charging around in cirlces, occasionally ripping down the capote or mulea, trampling and biting it. Some photographed to document, some photographed to give fuel to the opponents of this sport.
I saw 6 bulls slaughtered--run until they were exhausted and dehydrated. Pierced, pinched, aggrevated and finally stabbed--the crowds cheered, oowwed and ahhd, booed, clapped, threw flowers, waved hankerchiefs.
Honestly, I'm a little stunned. A few times the bulls got their revenge and knocked the novices and trampled on top of them. However, in the end, the sword won.
It was a little taste of the Roman thirst for blood in entertainment.
03 April 2007
Appetites
One unexpected change in Lacoste--voracious appetites.
Our village is situated on the side of a large hill. I'm not sure that I would call it a mountain, but it's very steep and on the other side are several quarries, where they gathered all the limestone to build this town and make a lot of random sculpture to leave all over the place.
In any case, the we are in a fairly high altitude. We do a lot of climbing up and down cobble stone hills and most everyone is out of breath by the time they go to or come back from meals at the bottom of this hill.
I have lost count of how many people have asked me every day "Is it time for lunch yet?" "Is it time for dinner? I'M STARVING!"
The combination of high altitude + increased activity + intensity of our schedule is making everyone VERY hungry. You should see the piles of food on their plates at meal time.
It hasn't hit me, yet, though. Perhaps later on. The only thing the higher altitude is making me want to do is pass out.
Our village is situated on the side of a large hill. I'm not sure that I would call it a mountain, but it's very steep and on the other side are several quarries, where they gathered all the limestone to build this town and make a lot of random sculpture to leave all over the place.
In any case, the we are in a fairly high altitude. We do a lot of climbing up and down cobble stone hills and most everyone is out of breath by the time they go to or come back from meals at the bottom of this hill.
I have lost count of how many people have asked me every day "Is it time for lunch yet?" "Is it time for dinner? I'M STARVING!"
The combination of high altitude + increased activity + intensity of our schedule is making everyone VERY hungry. You should see the piles of food on their plates at meal time.
It hasn't hit me, yet, though. Perhaps later on. The only thing the higher altitude is making me want to do is pass out.
01 April 2007
Pictures!
I moved out of the Mac lab into the PC lab and I found a computer that would let me download my pictures. Woo hoo!
So, I will show you a little bit of my world.
La Maison
The living room, kitchen & dining room combined...
One of my house mates, Anna.
My bedroom, part 1.
My bedroom, part 2.
The sun floods in on me in the morning. It is glorious.
The front door.
My front porch.
My backyard.
The view of Luberon Valley from my backyard.
A view from that window over my bed, part 1
The Luberon Valley again, a view from the
window over my bed, part 2.
So, I will show you a little bit of my world.
La Maison
The living room, kitchen & dining room combined...
One of my house mates, Anna.
My bedroom, part 1.
My bedroom, part 2.
The sun floods in on me in the morning. It is glorious.
The front door.
My front porch.
My backyard.
The view of Luberon Valley from my backyard.
A view from that window over my bed, part 1
The Luberon Valley again, a view from the
window over my bed, part 2.
Disappointment
I came into the lab this evening with the intention of uploading pictures. Alas, the computers are not working properly--won't read my card reader. Perhaps another time. Unlike the states, Southern France is not particularly concerned with high tech equipment. They live fairly simply. It's really refreshing. I only thought about my cell phone once today, and how glad I was that it was turned off and put away. There's a lot of freedom being unreachable. : ) That probably doesn't sound very nice. You all know I love to communicate. By the time I get back to the states, I'm sure I'll be more than happy to turn my phone back on and call all of you.
We took a walking tour this afternoon down the side of the mountain, outside the village and into the valley. The almond and cherry trees are starting to be covered in white blossoms. There were tracks of a wild boar in the mud. The oak trees are still naked, but they are threatening to explode very, very soon. All of creation is singing of the Creator. I can hardly stand to look at it all. It fills my heart up to overflowing.
Our first classes start tomorrow. We shall see what I have gotten myself into this quarter.
We took a walking tour this afternoon down the side of the mountain, outside the village and into the valley. The almond and cherry trees are starting to be covered in white blossoms. There were tracks of a wild boar in the mud. The oak trees are still naked, but they are threatening to explode very, very soon. All of creation is singing of the Creator. I can hardly stand to look at it all. It fills my heart up to overflowing.
Our first classes start tomorrow. We shall see what I have gotten myself into this quarter.
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