Provence a velo

I just got back from what was probably the best vacation of my life! Short but perfectly sweet: a bike trip through Provence.
It all started with Phillipe, a petit bicycle shop owner who maintained his 'tough' biker attitude by wearing bicycle duds, complete with shoulder and knee padding, from head to toe. After a few of Phillipe's words of wisdom and 6 of his bikes we left Camion and were surrounded by the Provencal countryside within 6km.
What we saw over the next 3 days cannot really be described in words, but I'll give it a try. C'est trop belle!
The first day started off with more or less low countryside. We rode from one beautiful hilltop village to the next. From the peak of one ville you could make out the next, crowning the hill in the distance. By the end of the day we were riding up a steep canyon as the opposing face of the canyon gradually disappeared and we were left with a breathtaking view of the low country villages and vinyards.
And so the trip continued with climbing and descending, the hills eventually becoming mountains and the valleys filled with blossoming cherry orchards and lavender fields.
The air was thick with the ripe smell of the fresh blossoms. Wisteria is the only one I can name. Fresh markets with honey and olives could be found in each town and the vineyards with free tasting littered the countryside.
I can't deny that the biking was intense. 50km a day of mountain biking was definitely more 'sportif' than I had expected, but it was a small price to pay for experiencing Provence. I wouldn't have it any other way!

Vie de Merde

"Life of Shit"

I would like to dedicate this post to one of my more embarrassing moments which happend recently, over spring break, in Lyon.

After hours around the city without toilets as usual, it's time to pee asap. I find a Starbucks in Lyon (the first I’ve seen in France) and rush to the bathroom before ordering a coffee. The Starbucks is packed and the line is practically going out the door. Take care of business as usual. As I exit the bathroom stall the hipster frenchie next to me gives me the one over and then gives me a cockily amused glance. I don’t really think anything of it and I meet Shana halfway through the line. Luckily I'm able to cut in near the front of the line. It is not until after I order my coffee that the guy behind me says to me, in French,
“Excuse me Mademoiselle, but I think you have a technical problem with your skirt.”
Turns out, my skirt was tucked up into my tights and I was bearing my ass to all the people I had cut in front of. Vie de merde :(

Hopefully it atleast made you smile!
Love
Lauren

Lazy Friday

Lazy Fridays in Nantes have become a loved and devoutly honoured tradition for me. I am done with class at noon and then the weekend officially begins. After meeting with some friends after class, we construct our picnic. Friday picnic consists of a fresh baguette, fromage—sometimes even from a local fromagerie if we are feeling extra lux, maybe a tomato, and a bottle of local wine. We wander semi-aimlessly around the city in sight of the perfect picnic spot. Sunshine is definitely a necessity, an influx of French people to watch, and a place for us to sit down and spread out. Voila, the recipe for a perfect Friday afternoon. C’est absolument parfait!

Obviously picnics are not exclusively a French tradition, but the afternoon vibes here make it seem like such an obvious thing to do. What could be more important than enjoying a beautiful day in good company, savouring the delicate taste of brie—or the not so delicate taste of Roquefort on fresh, crusty bread.

Rainy day haiku

Dear comrades,
Hello. The weather here has been quite stormy recently, rendering my a little sad and homesick. I have written some haiku for you to express some of my recent days.

Swallowing the sun
the clouds feast for days and then
a thunderous burp

Backwards umbrella
Victim of furious wind
Stays erect for life

Optimistic girl
wears sunglasses on her head
unprepared for snow

Baguette: crisp crust crunch
Bolt home for lunch between drops
Baguette: soft, sad, soaked

La greve continues

I tried to go to class today. When I got to la fac (the university), there was the usual bustle-clusters of chain smokers perched just outside of the academic buildings,students socializing and eating their breakfast on the stairs approaching the amphitheaters, and social activists with long dreadlocks posting signs and talking dynamically amongst themselves in the corridors. The only difference was that all of the classrooms and amphitheaters were locked, and there were no teachers to be seen. Everyone at la fac seemed to know the drill except me and another exchange student (she was Hungarian) who waited patiently for the teacher to arrive. Finally we decided to go to the department bulletin board to see what was up, and sure enough, on a lovely lavender flier there was an announcement that teachers from all departments would be having a meeting today to discuss the continuation of la greve and so all classes would be canceled.

Will la greve continue?? Who knows. For the next week there is supposed to be a student blockade preventing students and teachers from getting in to the academic buildings...I guess I'll find out on Monday what that's all about. Also, I talked to a french university student last week who told me that once a student blockade successfully shut down the university for 6 continuous weeks. Apparently that was years ago though, I guess all I can do for now is wait and see. And take advantage of my extra free time!

Miss you and love you!

Lauren

Protest Impersonator

Quartier Bouffet seemed unusually tranquil as Caitlin and I lazily meandered through les rues Thursday afternoon. All of my university classes for the day had been canceled because of la grève-a nationwide strike. Thus far I had been a little disappointed with la grève: All of the trams were running, the shops we’re open, and the city was peaceful. But just as we left the quarter and turned onto the main rue, I felt the change. Finally there were people, a steady stream of them was heading towards centre ville. Caitlin and I exchanged excited glances and I suppressed a shriek of excitement, as we followed the flow to the demonstration. As we drew nearer, the crowd thickened and voices rose. There were vans haphazardly parked throughout the city’s main boulevard, signs and flags were waving high above the crowd. The sea of people—now virtually shoulder to shoulder—extended for hundreds of meters! Cries from the crowd could be heard above the beating French reggae. Bottle rockets and cap guns fired sporadically, sometimes they were far away, and sometimes they were a little too close for comfort. Up until this point, I had tried to act natural and stick out too much as a tourist, but now I couldn’t help but whip out my camera, this was all way too exciting to go undocumented!

Lycée and university students were there protesting the decaying educational standards. (The French are very proud of their exceptional and rigorous public education system). Les fonctionnaires (government employees) were protesting the diminishing hours and salaries provided par l’état. Many were there to cry out for help and unionization to get through the economic crisis. Others filled the space and gave moral support to their fellow countrymen, there were old men and women, children, and even mothers with babies in strollers were present! One group of dramatic protesters especially intrigued me. A group of ‘secret service’ agents were leading a black car where 'Caesar' Nicholas Sarkozy was waving to his followers. In his right hand, he was holding the media (which consisted of a man tied up as a hostage inside of an empty television set) on a leash. His followers were wearing sheep masks, nodding their heads and baaahaha-ing obediently. Caitlin and I got swept along with the fifty or so sheep that were following his parade so we decided to go along with the protest for a tour around the block. I can’t say I really follow French politics nor do I have any sort of row with Sarkozy, but it was absolutely thrilling to join the protest either way. The only way I would have felt more French was if I had been smoking a cigarette. What a great day! It may have even been more exciting than a snow day.

I did have to walk home though. No trams. I didn’t have to worry about getting lost though since I could just walk the tracks the whole way home along with the real frenchies :)

Some things never change...

I was supposed to visit Mont St. Michel yesterday with the IES group, but I messed up my alarm and didn't wake up until 8...the bus left at 7:45. Unfortunately, I didn't have X-tina to come knock on my door and get me out bed to catch the bus :(

Also, I left the house in a frenzy Friday morning and couldn't find my cell phone (sound familiar?). So I left without it on the day that they happened to be doing cell phone safety checks, thus failing the safety check. Oh merde.

So I just wanted to let you know that I have managed to remain forgetful and flustered even in a foreign country. Some things never change...

Fresh Food?

The French are sort of weird about the shelf life of food. They insist on buying their bread daily from bakeries where it is made from the freshest ingredients and without preservatives and it isn’t any good 2 days after it has been purchased. Also, they purchase their fish from the market the morning it is to be eaten and bring it home-tail and head included! On the other had, they buy their milk in cardboard boxes. It comes treated so that it can be kept for months in the basement pantry without refrigeration. Also, they absolutely love Roquefort, a cheese that is so moldy it’s actually illegal to sell certain types of it in the United States! But bread is only good the day that it is bought…it’s damn good bread though so I won’t complain.

Les Rues font les regles.

Bonjour a tous !

So this Saturday I witnessed my first French protest. I was on my way to the tram station to go home and the street seemed a little more animated than usual, but I didn’t think anything of it at first. As I approached the station, I could tell that the extra noise wasn’t just the gaiety of a Saturday afternoon, I realized that it was une manifestation (a protest). Over the heads of the crowd, I could see Palestinian flags waving and signs bouncing to the beat of a chanting mob. The train tracks were covered by the mass of people rallying for Palestinian resistance! Having never witnessed anything like this before I had a string of reactions. I was instantly energized and drawn toward the mob. What on earth were these people yelling? As I walked toward the mob I was next struck by fear when I saw a wall of police officers surrounding the mob, it was a peaceful protest, but I was scared all the same. After my brief euphoric infatuation with the protest came to an end I panicked. How can I get home with these people blocking my train?!…was I going to have to walk the whole way?! Luckily, the French are accustomed to these sorts of civil disruptions and were not panicked at all. They had the tram cut into two different branches, each one running to the end of the line and stopping just before the protestors so all I had to do was walk to the next stop. When I got home, my mind was still a flutter with the excitement of the encounter, and the first thing I did was to run to my host mom and tell her about what I had seen. She replied with very little interest, telling me that this sort of things happens all the time. I can’t help but love France a little more because of this. There is something so romantic about a country where people are passionate enough rally and take their beliefs to the street as a part of their daily life. Vive la France where the rues rule the country!

A tout a l'heure!

Lauren

A weekend of Castles and Comraderie

Hello!
It has been awhile since my last post and sooo much has happened, but I will try not to ramble. Almost right after I got to Nantes I and all of the other IES students left for a petit sejour in Tours-a city along the Loire River. It was a glamorous orientation complete with three course meals(2 per day), ice breakers, and castles (also 2 per day). There was also a three hour placement exam, but that is not nearly as exciting as the rest. It was absolutely magnifique to see all of the snow-covered chateaux! The interiors of some of the chateaux were restored and we were able to see the luxurious bedroom of Francois I. What's not so luxurious is that the beautiful bed he slept in also house his wife, his children, maybe an uncle or aunt, his mistress(right alongside his wife, which to me seems positively scandalous), and the royal dogs and cats. I guess families were a little closer back then.
It was also nice to have a weekend to get to know some of the people in my program. There is quite a cornucopia of people who came to study in Nantes. There are some people who are really smart, and also some who aren't so smart. There are some who love to go out, and others who prefer books. Toss in a hipster and some southerners, lost of coasties, a volunteer fanatic and a bro and voila. You have my fellow IES-ers. I am making some friends, but I still don't know everyone's name. It's been a little harder to really connect with people lately because we are forbidden to speak in English. As much as I love French, it is hard for me to really express myself and say exactly what I mean...and that is wearing me out fo sho!

Edit: I like to think that I add a dirty hippie dynamic to the bunch.