I know...I know. I'm a wretched human being who is unable to keep others updated about her life and probably doesn't deserve to have a blog. But in my defense...I've been working (and playing) hard. But who wants to write a blog entry when you're living in Skagway and someone says that there's an impromptu game of four square outside of the church? Or there's volleyball and basketball happening in the rec center? Or there's miles of amazing hiking just outside of town? My point exactly. All that to say, I've been keeping myself pretty occupied. I've wanted to share stories but I never seem to find the time. So, I'm going to recount now, for your reading pleasure, one of my more recent stories. Let's call it...Lauren and the Terrifying, Exhausting, Disastrous, Bear-filled Day at Dyea.
So...yesterday was my first day being stationed out at Dyea by myself. Dyea is a ghost town that once rivalled Skagway during the Gold Rush but is now a bear infested patch of woods with ruins of old buildings scattered throughout. It is my job to spend all day out here and lead two walking tours through the townsite and rove throughout the rest of the townsite in the meantime. Well, I've been pretty nervous about the bears. But everyone had been reassuring me that although there was bear skat all throughout the townsite, nobody had seen a bear in a good two weeks time. I guess I'm lucky. I had only been in the townsite for approximately 20 minutes. I was taking pictures of some wildflowers. I made contact with my first visitor who decided to go on my walking tour. In the time that it took for him to go back to his motorcycle and come back, I met a bear. I was reading one of the interpretive signs in a clearing with a small patch of woods behind me that lay between the road and the clearing. I felt safe as the slough was in front of me and I figured the woods behind me were too scarce to hide any bears. Well, I heard a tremendous crash directly behind and instantly knew it was a bear. I whirled around, fumbling for the bear spray on my belt and managed to whip it out just in time to see a bear crashing through the woods towards me, about twenty to thirty feet away. The bear must have been startled by something on the road because I don't think it initially saw me. I must have surprised it as it directly went galumphing off in the other direction upon seeing a human in the clearing. But that didn't stop me from dying inside as I imagined in quick succession a million deaths. My hand was shaking as I walked back out to the parked cars to where the visitor was. What surprised me was how calmly I was able to talk. I really didn't want to lead the walking tour having just watched the bear run in the direction of the town, but what choice did I have? I now had 5 visitors. Well, we proceeded boldly along, my hand constantly wandering to the bear spray at my side.
We had gotten about half-way through the tour and although I was still somewhat high strung, I began to relax a little. I genuinely enjoyed conversing with my group and it was almost as though we were having a pleasant stroll through the woods. But it was not to be. While pointing out some color changing lichen, I heard the unmistakable snap of a branch by a creature that was too large to be a squirrel or a bird. I spotted a little bit of movement and then I informed my group that there was a bear a mere 40 feet away. Well, they did remarkably well and they calmly talked in loud voices to let the bear...or should I say bears, for there were two...to let the bears know that we were there. We started to back track and the bears fled from before us...right in the direction we were going to go. Well, we got out of there (one woman was upset we weren't able to stay so she could take a picture of the lichen...but color changing lichen is much less important than being in proximity to a bear if you ask me). We decided we would approach the false front (the only remaining structure in Dyea) from the opposite direction and hope that the two bears had left. We met up with a cycling group and we then proceeded in a group of 20 or so to the false front. On route, I saw the two bears again. They ran away from the false front. We then reached the road leading up to the false front and the two bears came crashing through one last time. The leader stopped in the middle of the road and gazed fully upon us before running off again with her friend in pursuit. Needless to say, I was somewhat on edge all morning. And I was unreasonably angry with Steve, our Law Enforcement ranger, for not being in Dyea when there were bears all around on my first day. He doesn't deserve my wrath, but that didn't stop me from thinking that he did at the time.
Well, turns out I couldn't have called for help if I had wanted to...because radio technicians had basically cut all radio traffic as they were working on improving the signal. Great. Bears running loose in Dyea. Me. All alone. Radio. Dead. And this was how I found out. Apparently a stump out on the tidal flats was on fire, but they had poured sand and water on it. It was still smoking and I tried to call it in to Steve...but no answer. So, I drove back to the ranger station, had to call Steve on his cell phone at which point he said he would call the fire department and come out and have a look. They finally came out, but by then it was time for me to drive back to Skagway. They were still on the flats when I left but my attitude by that time was good bye and good riddance. See you in two weeks, bear friends. I unashamedly sing and talk to myself as I rove in Dyea to keep the bears at bay. No bear, my hat. I saw 3 bears in my very first hour in Dyea. What are the odds of that? I went home, had Dorritos, Dr. Pepper, and leftover chili for dinner and read Confederates in the Attic. Thus ended my day in Dyea. Until next time!...whenever that may be...
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
La vie en...ALASKA!!!
So...I realize that this is my french blog...but I don't really want to change the address and everything now that I'm in Alaska. So...it looks like I'll be continuing my blog.
So...Alaska. It's gorgeous! I haven't had a chance to take pictures yet, but I will soon. I'm finally feeling not sick. I've been pretty desperately ill for the last week or so...and I didn't have enough time to go the doctor, so its nice to be able to start to taste and smell things again. I'm still coughing and don't really have a voice...but at least I'm not achy and I don't want to crawl into bed all the time. Disneyland was fun...but we were all kind of sick...especially me, so it could have been more fun. I beat Sarah on the buzz lightyear ride...yes! But my plane rides were without incident. On the way from LAX to Seattle, I was seated next to a decently cute guy, and since it was a red eye flight, pretty much the whole plane was asleep. I awoke from a small snooze to find cute guy completely asleep and starting to lean in my direction. I found it kind of amusing and so I left him like that until he was almost sleeping on my shoulder. But then I had to go and cough and he woke up with a jerk and awkward situation ensued where I pretended I was asleep and was unaware that he was snoozing in my vicinity. I slept the whole flight from Seattle to Juneau, so the whole process passed rather quickly. We arrived in Juneau to wind and rain and I feared that my small plane would not be able to fly out in inclement weather. Well, inclement weather means something different in Alaska than it does in California. So...I got in a tiny plane that seated 8 passengers and we struck out for Skagway. What can I say? The flight was breathtakingly beautiful. There is snow in Juneau still and we flew up the inside passage inbetween enormous snowcapped mountains and glaciers to the tiny town of Skagway, located in a fjord. The flight was somewhat bumpy, and the bottom swooped out from us a few times, but if you treated it as a rollercoaster, it was fine. To land in Skagway, you fly over the town and make a sharp curve banking far to the right just next to the mountains to approach the landing strip from inland. If heights and rollercoasters frighten you...small planes are not for you.
Skagway...now that I can finally smell again, the scent is intoxicating. The mountains rise straight to the heavens and are still capped with snow. The biggest mountain facing us is known by the locals as witch mountain. The majority of the buildings are restored and all of the sidewalks are boardwalks. I'm living in a restored historic house (the Peniel Mission) with the Moore cabin and house practically in my backyard (The absolute first structures in Skagway before the stampeders arrived...to a history nerd like me, this is tantamount to awesome). I asked today if the tap water was good and was met with incredulous stares. Apparently, the water comes straight from the glaciers surrounding Skagway...this is where bottled water companies should set up headquarters. I had my first day of training today. It was definite information overload, but hopefully, I'll be getting the hang of this soon. I'm very excited to start my official duties once I finally get it all figured out. There are so many different duties I'll be doing...so different from Cabrillo. I'll give official tours around town, staff the visitor center, staff the moore house (with the original piano that composed the state song for Alaska...that I'm allowed to play!), spend a day out in Dyea (chances of bear sightings are good), do living history, and help with research (yay!). Pretty much to sum it up....I'm stoked. And a fellow ranger invited me over to watch the laker's game tonight. They lost. Boo. But cool that I got invited over and seem to be making friends. Anyhoo, I'm attending a seminar on the Tlingit (pronounced Klinkit) tomorrow and then we are headed up to the white pass with the historian. Should prove another interesting day. Talk to you all soon!
So...Alaska. It's gorgeous! I haven't had a chance to take pictures yet, but I will soon. I'm finally feeling not sick. I've been pretty desperately ill for the last week or so...and I didn't have enough time to go the doctor, so its nice to be able to start to taste and smell things again. I'm still coughing and don't really have a voice...but at least I'm not achy and I don't want to crawl into bed all the time. Disneyland was fun...but we were all kind of sick...especially me, so it could have been more fun. I beat Sarah on the buzz lightyear ride...yes! But my plane rides were without incident. On the way from LAX to Seattle, I was seated next to a decently cute guy, and since it was a red eye flight, pretty much the whole plane was asleep. I awoke from a small snooze to find cute guy completely asleep and starting to lean in my direction. I found it kind of amusing and so I left him like that until he was almost sleeping on my shoulder. But then I had to go and cough and he woke up with a jerk and awkward situation ensued where I pretended I was asleep and was unaware that he was snoozing in my vicinity. I slept the whole flight from Seattle to Juneau, so the whole process passed rather quickly. We arrived in Juneau to wind and rain and I feared that my small plane would not be able to fly out in inclement weather. Well, inclement weather means something different in Alaska than it does in California. So...I got in a tiny plane that seated 8 passengers and we struck out for Skagway. What can I say? The flight was breathtakingly beautiful. There is snow in Juneau still and we flew up the inside passage inbetween enormous snowcapped mountains and glaciers to the tiny town of Skagway, located in a fjord. The flight was somewhat bumpy, and the bottom swooped out from us a few times, but if you treated it as a rollercoaster, it was fine. To land in Skagway, you fly over the town and make a sharp curve banking far to the right just next to the mountains to approach the landing strip from inland. If heights and rollercoasters frighten you...small planes are not for you.
Skagway...now that I can finally smell again, the scent is intoxicating. The mountains rise straight to the heavens and are still capped with snow. The biggest mountain facing us is known by the locals as witch mountain. The majority of the buildings are restored and all of the sidewalks are boardwalks. I'm living in a restored historic house (the Peniel Mission) with the Moore cabin and house practically in my backyard (The absolute first structures in Skagway before the stampeders arrived...to a history nerd like me, this is tantamount to awesome). I asked today if the tap water was good and was met with incredulous stares. Apparently, the water comes straight from the glaciers surrounding Skagway...this is where bottled water companies should set up headquarters. I had my first day of training today. It was definite information overload, but hopefully, I'll be getting the hang of this soon. I'm very excited to start my official duties once I finally get it all figured out. There are so many different duties I'll be doing...so different from Cabrillo. I'll give official tours around town, staff the visitor center, staff the moore house (with the original piano that composed the state song for Alaska...that I'm allowed to play!), spend a day out in Dyea (chances of bear sightings are good), do living history, and help with research (yay!). Pretty much to sum it up....I'm stoked. And a fellow ranger invited me over to watch the laker's game tonight. They lost. Boo. But cool that I got invited over and seem to be making friends. Anyhoo, I'm attending a seminar on the Tlingit (pronounced Klinkit) tomorrow and then we are headed up to the white pass with the historian. Should prove another interesting day. Talk to you all soon!
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Boite de Nuit!!! ...aka...nightclub
I woke up at 2:30 this afternoon. I think it was merited seeing as how I didn't go to sleep until 5:30 in the morning. But it was soooo worth it! I went to a nightclub for the first time in my life last night and it was a blast! Last night, we started the evening off at my apartment, with pizza and various autre choses. By we, I mean Melany, Roselyne, Gladys, Jordan, and Jeremy. The girls showed up first and we had a fun time getting dressed up and taking pictures (when you go to a club in France...it's serious business...jeans and tennis shoes are absolutely not allowed). The boys showed up later and we made a party of it until around midnight or so when Gladys' mom came to pick us up to drive us to the club. She is a saint, that woman. I can't think of many mothers who would volunteer to drive a bunch of intoxicated adolescents 40 minutes to a club and then come pick them up at 4 in the morning...especially, when Gladys and family are leaving for Morocco today for vacation. But I digress...anyhoo, we got to the club and you could feel the music from outside the building...which means that you can probably guess the how loud it was inside the club. Melany got carded at the entrance (she always does...she has a baby face)and we met up with Benoit. We then all trooped in along with all the French people who came to Saintes especially for this nightclub...which has the reputation of being one of the best in the Charente-Maritime.
On first walking in, I was impressed. The biggest dance floor is techno themed. There are platforms for dancing on, cages for dancing in, and even a rotating floor that when paired with strobe lights makes you feel like you're dancing even when you're standing still. The boys were reluctant at first, so Melany and I started dancing on the rotating platform thingy with about a million other people. You can feel the music and when everyone is dancing all around you, you can't help but dance. It's great! After dancing a little bit, we took a tour of the club...there are different rooms and they are all differently themed. There was a room dedicated to rap and hip-hop and a room for disco hits and 80's music. There were a ton of old people in the latter room. We didn't dance in there at all. There was also the "VIP club"...which was upstairs and was more posh. Anyhoo, the dj announced that he was going to be giving out free drinks which got everyone super riled up and all of a sudden I found myself dancing with the group right in front of the dj. Along with the music and the strobe lights they also pump in fog...which when paired with strobe lights is surreal. But it was great! And then...I don't know how this happened...but the dj pointed at me and called me forward to give me a free drink voucher. Wow. I guess I don't suck at dancing. But don't worry...I only had a coke. After dancing for a while, we decided to go outside for a few minutes to breathe...but in reality, the only "outside" that you can access without leaving the club is the smoker's area...so I wasn't really given the opportunity to breathe. But oh man...that many bodies packed in like so many sardines in a tin is a recipe for sweat.
I won't bore you all with more details about how we danced all night long, but I will leave you with this one anecdote. Towards the end of the night, we were sitting in a booth waiting for Jordan to show up again so that we could leave (Jordan has a few million friends. He was flitting between groups all night long.), when a French guy approached me and asked me if I'd like to dance. Welp, it was a slow song and not knowing him at all, I politely declined. He was persistent. I again declined. He then asked why. Why oh why should I have to justify my refusal?!? Why do boys always have to ask why? Just as I was racking my brains for an excuse, Jordan shows up out of nowhere, grabs my hand and pulls me over to the couch next to him saying somthing to the effect of, "Ma cherie! There you are!". So...thank you Jordan for saving my life. I do not condone being intoxicated, but when Jordan is drunk, he is flippin' hilarious. He waxes witty...then starts singing songs...and then starts mumbling to himself...and then has incredible bursts of energy. Dancing with a drunk Jordan is super fun. I no longer have a voice from trying to make myself heard last night...and my ears were ringing as I tried to fall asleep...and my feet were sore from dancing. But given the opportunity to go clubbing again? I would probably say I'd love to.
On first walking in, I was impressed. The biggest dance floor is techno themed. There are platforms for dancing on, cages for dancing in, and even a rotating floor that when paired with strobe lights makes you feel like you're dancing even when you're standing still. The boys were reluctant at first, so Melany and I started dancing on the rotating platform thingy with about a million other people. You can feel the music and when everyone is dancing all around you, you can't help but dance. It's great! After dancing a little bit, we took a tour of the club...there are different rooms and they are all differently themed. There was a room dedicated to rap and hip-hop and a room for disco hits and 80's music. There were a ton of old people in the latter room. We didn't dance in there at all. There was also the "VIP club"...which was upstairs and was more posh. Anyhoo, the dj announced that he was going to be giving out free drinks which got everyone super riled up and all of a sudden I found myself dancing with the group right in front of the dj. Along with the music and the strobe lights they also pump in fog...which when paired with strobe lights is surreal. But it was great! And then...I don't know how this happened...but the dj pointed at me and called me forward to give me a free drink voucher. Wow. I guess I don't suck at dancing. But don't worry...I only had a coke. After dancing for a while, we decided to go outside for a few minutes to breathe...but in reality, the only "outside" that you can access without leaving the club is the smoker's area...so I wasn't really given the opportunity to breathe. But oh man...that many bodies packed in like so many sardines in a tin is a recipe for sweat.
I won't bore you all with more details about how we danced all night long, but I will leave you with this one anecdote. Towards the end of the night, we were sitting in a booth waiting for Jordan to show up again so that we could leave (Jordan has a few million friends. He was flitting between groups all night long.), when a French guy approached me and asked me if I'd like to dance. Welp, it was a slow song and not knowing him at all, I politely declined. He was persistent. I again declined. He then asked why. Why oh why should I have to justify my refusal?!? Why do boys always have to ask why? Just as I was racking my brains for an excuse, Jordan shows up out of nowhere, grabs my hand and pulls me over to the couch next to him saying somthing to the effect of, "Ma cherie! There you are!". So...thank you Jordan for saving my life. I do not condone being intoxicated, but when Jordan is drunk, he is flippin' hilarious. He waxes witty...then starts singing songs...and then starts mumbling to himself...and then has incredible bursts of energy. Dancing with a drunk Jordan is super fun. I no longer have a voice from trying to make myself heard last night...and my ears were ringing as I tried to fall asleep...and my feet were sore from dancing. But given the opportunity to go clubbing again? I would probably say I'd love to.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes....
Hello all! I know its been ages since I've updated my blog, but nothing super exciting has happened that has merited a blog. Or maybe, life in France has ceased to be novel and is just life. But in any case, I love it here! But on to the point of this blog...I'll be home in one week! I can't believe it! After living in this wonderful town for 7 months, I can't believe I'm leaving! BBMB threw a goodbye party for me last weekend...soo much fun! We danced all night long...I love to dance! But nobody at home likes to dance with me (ahem! Get your acts together...we're going dancing). But anyhoo, tonight will be my last basketball practice. Things really are wrapping up here. Friday night I'll have a goodbye dinner with Sylvain and friends and afterwards, I'll watch my last guys game. Then Saturday, time to start cleaning...bleh. But Saturday night...we are going dancing! It will be my first time in a "boite de nuit" (nightclub)and i must admit I'm somewhat nervous. After Saturday, it will be a quick 3 days of cleaning and packing up and then "I'm leaving on a jet plane...don't know when I'll be back again" (hopefully next year...I'd love to return for a second year). I'll pass a night in Dublin and then from Dublin, a quick stop in Boston for customs and then I'll be arriving in San Diego, greeted by my sister and a burrito. I'll only be home for a week or so, but I'm sure that I'll get a chance to say hello to you all! Here's to one week left!
Monday, March 23, 2009
Hamlet...Facebook Style
HAMLET
(FACEBOOK NEWS
FEED EDITION).
BY SARAH SCHMELLING
- - - -
Horatio thinks he saw a ghost.
Hamlet thinks it's annoying when your uncle marries your mother right after your dad dies.
The king thinks Hamlet's annoying.
Laertes thinks Ophelia can do better.
Hamlet's father is now a zombie.
- - - -
The king poked the queen.
The queen poked the king back.
Hamlet and the queen are no longer friends.
Marcellus is pretty sure something's rotten around here.
Hamlet became a fan of daggers.
- - - -
Polonius says Hamlet's crazy ... crazy in love!
Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Hamlet are now friends.
Hamlet wonders if he should continue to exist. Or not.
Hamlet thinks Ophelia might be happier in a convent.
Ophelia removed "moody princes" from her interests.
Hamlet posted an event: A Play That's Totally Fictional and In No Way About My Family
The king commented on Hamlet's play: "What is wrong with you?"
Polonius thinks this curtain looks like a good thing to hide behind.
Polonius is no longer online.
- - - -
Hamlet added England to the Places I've Been application.
The queen is worried about Ophelia.
Ophelia loves flowers. Flowers flowers flowers flowers flowers. Oh, look, a river.
Ophelia joined the group Maidens Who Don't Float.
Laertes wonders what the hell happened while he was gone.
- - - -
The king sent Hamlet a goblet of wine.
The queen likes wine!
The king likes ... oh crap.
The queen, the king, Laertes, and Hamlet are now zombies.
Horatio says well that was tragic.
Fortinbras, Prince of Norway, says yes, tragic. We'll take it from here.
Denmark is now Norwegian.
(FACEBOOK NEWS
FEED EDITION).
BY SARAH SCHMELLING
- - - -
Horatio thinks he saw a ghost.
Hamlet thinks it's annoying when your uncle marries your mother right after your dad dies.
The king thinks Hamlet's annoying.
Laertes thinks Ophelia can do better.
Hamlet's father is now a zombie.
- - - -
The king poked the queen.
The queen poked the king back.
Hamlet and the queen are no longer friends.
Marcellus is pretty sure something's rotten around here.
Hamlet became a fan of daggers.
- - - -
Polonius says Hamlet's crazy ... crazy in love!
Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Hamlet are now friends.
Hamlet wonders if he should continue to exist. Or not.
Hamlet thinks Ophelia might be happier in a convent.
Ophelia removed "moody princes" from her interests.
Hamlet posted an event: A Play That's Totally Fictional and In No Way About My Family
The king commented on Hamlet's play: "What is wrong with you?"
Polonius thinks this curtain looks like a good thing to hide behind.
Polonius is no longer online.
- - - -
Hamlet added England to the Places I've Been application.
The queen is worried about Ophelia.
Ophelia loves flowers. Flowers flowers flowers flowers flowers. Oh, look, a river.
Ophelia joined the group Maidens Who Don't Float.
Laertes wonders what the hell happened while he was gone.
- - - -
The king sent Hamlet a goblet of wine.
The queen likes wine!
The king likes ... oh crap.
The queen, the king, Laertes, and Hamlet are now zombies.
Horatio says well that was tragic.
Fortinbras, Prince of Norway, says yes, tragic. We'll take it from here.
Denmark is now Norwegian.
Monday, March 2, 2009
I HAVE A JOB!!!
A totally awesome God-thing just happened to me. I was sitting around waiting for a phone call from Jeanne Roy, the hiring lady at Katmai (the bear park) when about 30 minutes before the expected call, I received a call from Bruce Dansby, the hiring guy at Klondike (my first choice...I've already been rejected). Welp, he called to tell me that somebody was backing out of a position at Klondike and the job was mine! So, I have a job for this summer! Praise be to God! Not only do I no longer have to work with bears, but I'll be working with Gold Rush History on the Alaskan frontier! How cool is that? AND...Skagway (the town where Klondike is) is not super remote like Katmai...meaning I most likely have internet access and can use a telephone. Plus, Bruce was very lenient with me and I report for duty May 4...giving me some time to see my family and friends after France! AND he said I can take annual leave to come home for Alli's wedding! All things work together for the good of those who love God! I'm just so relieved that I won't be working with bears in the middle of Alaska. I just thought I'd share my joy with all of you. If you're interested, you can learn a little about Klondike Goldrush by visiting their website. www.nps.gov/klgo
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Quelle Histoire!
So...I fell in a hole yesterday. Not just any hole...a hole in a subterranean passage completely devoid of light in the fortified city of Brouages. What an adventure! But the bad part of all of that is that I broke a rib. Well, there's a first time for everything isn't there? Let me start at the beginning...
Yesterday, my friend and teammate Yop (johann) invited me out to see the sites of the Charente-Maritime. So, at the buttcrack of dawn, we went to the port of Marennes and went out the marais with his stepfather on his boat. The marais is what we call it when the tide is low and all of the oyster beds are exposed. It was very cold, but I went into the boat cabin and warmed up next to Urky, the dog. It was an industry unlike anything I've ever seen. Oyster farmers' lives are dictated by the tide. Sometimes, they go out before the light. Sometimes, in the evening...and sometimes, they are unable to work if the tides are not good enough. After leaving some oysters just off the coast of Ronce les bains and Ile d'Oleron, we returned and warmed up in front of the fire in the cabane while Yop's mother sorted good oysters from empty shells and other things.
Later that day, we went to Brouage. Now, I have been dying to see Brouage since I arrived. It's a completely fortified walled city built by Vauban and Richilieu less than 7 km from where I live. But as there are no buses out there...I haven't had an opportunity to visit. Brouage is also the birthplace of Samuel Champlain, the explorer who founded Quebec. Brouage was a catholic city in the 16th century and La Rochelle was a protestant city...which meant that there were the inevitable wars. At one time, the sea ran just up alongside of Brouage...it currently resides 7 or 8 km away. Now the city is surrounded by marshes. But the ramparts are in excellent condition. Brouage is much much smaller than Carcassonne, but it was just as cool. Anyways, while exploring the city, Yop and I found one of its subterranean passageways that used to allow access to the city by boat. We walked a ways in only to find the passage barricaded off. But what is a barricade to adventurers like us? Channeling the spirit of Indiana Jones, we walked past the barricade and attempted to explore the cavernous dark. Having no light, we attempted to use the flash of my camera to explore. We rounded a corner and were trying to trace the exit of the tunnel. All I remember is taking a step to the right and finding no ground beneath my foot. My first thought was, "Lauren, how could you be so stupid?!? You could have found the neverending pit for all you know!" But my tumble was brief and it concluded when I hit the back of my head against a wall. Relief flooded me...whew...I only fell about a meter or so. But the only thing poor Yop could see was my head and who knows what terrible things he was thinking. Of course when asked how I was, I responded, "Ca va, ca va." I see now that I was not "ca va". My primary occupation was with my hand...I had torn a rather large hole in it. My chest and hip were hurting a bit, but I was extremely pleases to find that I had sustained no head injuries. Anyways, we climbed out of the hole, found our way back into the sunlight and decided to search for Yop's mother to patch me up a bit. I then discovered that what had been a small tear in my jeans had turned into a gaping gulf...sniff...those were my favorite pair too! Anyways, I returned home afterwards, and although my ribcage was hurting, I was convinced it was probably just a big bruise or a pulled muscle.
So, I played basketball that night. I know...I am not an intelligent person. Afterwards, I clearly realized that perhaps the feeling in my chest was a little bit more than a bruise. But I decided to sleep on it and see how i felt in the morning. Welp, when Yop called me this morning to see how I was doing, I wasn't coherent enough to speak French, so he said he'd call me back. I then got up and realized that my ribs were feeling much much worse today than they were yesterday. Maybe I should play it safe and go to the doctor...which is what I did. Yop took me the doctor and helped me explain what it was that I had done. The doctor then proceeded to push on my sternum and my back at the same time, explaining that my ribcage would rotate and it would indicate whether I had broken something. Well, at first, it wasn't bad but as he moved down my sternum, there was very definite pain in my ribcage. So...apparently I've broken a rib. But I've done it in the best possible way...very clean break, possibly even just a very bad crack. No punctured lungs...I really count myself quite lucky. Actually, I hate to think of what I might have done had I walked straight off the ledge into that hole instead of taking a side step... Anyhoo, hope this finds you well! I've been banned from basketball for 10 days as I heal, so please be praying that this heals well and quickly.
Yesterday, my friend and teammate Yop (johann) invited me out to see the sites of the Charente-Maritime. So, at the buttcrack of dawn, we went to the port of Marennes and went out the marais with his stepfather on his boat. The marais is what we call it when the tide is low and all of the oyster beds are exposed. It was very cold, but I went into the boat cabin and warmed up next to Urky, the dog. It was an industry unlike anything I've ever seen. Oyster farmers' lives are dictated by the tide. Sometimes, they go out before the light. Sometimes, in the evening...and sometimes, they are unable to work if the tides are not good enough. After leaving some oysters just off the coast of Ronce les bains and Ile d'Oleron, we returned and warmed up in front of the fire in the cabane while Yop's mother sorted good oysters from empty shells and other things.
Later that day, we went to Brouage. Now, I have been dying to see Brouage since I arrived. It's a completely fortified walled city built by Vauban and Richilieu less than 7 km from where I live. But as there are no buses out there...I haven't had an opportunity to visit. Brouage is also the birthplace of Samuel Champlain, the explorer who founded Quebec. Brouage was a catholic city in the 16th century and La Rochelle was a protestant city...which meant that there were the inevitable wars. At one time, the sea ran just up alongside of Brouage...it currently resides 7 or 8 km away. Now the city is surrounded by marshes. But the ramparts are in excellent condition. Brouage is much much smaller than Carcassonne, but it was just as cool. Anyways, while exploring the city, Yop and I found one of its subterranean passageways that used to allow access to the city by boat. We walked a ways in only to find the passage barricaded off. But what is a barricade to adventurers like us? Channeling the spirit of Indiana Jones, we walked past the barricade and attempted to explore the cavernous dark. Having no light, we attempted to use the flash of my camera to explore. We rounded a corner and were trying to trace the exit of the tunnel. All I remember is taking a step to the right and finding no ground beneath my foot. My first thought was, "Lauren, how could you be so stupid?!? You could have found the neverending pit for all you know!" But my tumble was brief and it concluded when I hit the back of my head against a wall. Relief flooded me...whew...I only fell about a meter or so. But the only thing poor Yop could see was my head and who knows what terrible things he was thinking. Of course when asked how I was, I responded, "Ca va, ca va." I see now that I was not "ca va". My primary occupation was with my hand...I had torn a rather large hole in it. My chest and hip were hurting a bit, but I was extremely pleases to find that I had sustained no head injuries. Anyways, we climbed out of the hole, found our way back into the sunlight and decided to search for Yop's mother to patch me up a bit. I then discovered that what had been a small tear in my jeans had turned into a gaping gulf...sniff...those were my favorite pair too! Anyways, I returned home afterwards, and although my ribcage was hurting, I was convinced it was probably just a big bruise or a pulled muscle.
So, I played basketball that night. I know...I am not an intelligent person. Afterwards, I clearly realized that perhaps the feeling in my chest was a little bit more than a bruise. But I decided to sleep on it and see how i felt in the morning. Welp, when Yop called me this morning to see how I was doing, I wasn't coherent enough to speak French, so he said he'd call me back. I then got up and realized that my ribs were feeling much much worse today than they were yesterday. Maybe I should play it safe and go to the doctor...which is what I did. Yop took me the doctor and helped me explain what it was that I had done. The doctor then proceeded to push on my sternum and my back at the same time, explaining that my ribcage would rotate and it would indicate whether I had broken something. Well, at first, it wasn't bad but as he moved down my sternum, there was very definite pain in my ribcage. So...apparently I've broken a rib. But I've done it in the best possible way...very clean break, possibly even just a very bad crack. No punctured lungs...I really count myself quite lucky. Actually, I hate to think of what I might have done had I walked straight off the ledge into that hole instead of taking a side step... Anyhoo, hope this finds you well! I've been banned from basketball for 10 days as I heal, so please be praying that this heals well and quickly.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Mon Anniversaire!
For the first time in 8 years, it didn't rain on my birthday. Frankly, I was shocked. But it was rather pleasant all the same. I want to thank everyone for their birthday wishes, I had a most wonderful and pleasant birthday, and I shall now endeavour to recount the details.
So...Saturday, the day before my birthday, I found myself at the civic center of Marennes. The bball club was hosting a loto as a fundraiser. A loto is basically bingo. And there were some really fantastic prizes! But the majority of the 300 people there were over the age of 50. And they were serious bingo players! Tired of not winning, I started to talk to my neighbor only to be interupted by a loud "SHHH!!!" Wow. Loto is intense. So, I decided to construct a pyramid of bingo chips which entertained me mightily for some time. I watched as the 8 year old Lea used her own money to buy bingo cards and every possible item from the snack bar...she was very proud of the fact that she had paid for it. And she was so sure she was going to win too...welp, teach em young that gambling doesn't pay. Anyhoo, at midnight (I wasn't aware that it was midnight as I was constructing the hanging gardens of Bingolon), Thierry interupted number calling to say, "Today, the 22nd of February, in the United States, is a very important day". Oh crap. So, basically he announced my birthday in front of 300 people, made me stand up and then the lights went out and Fabrice came on to the stage with a birthday cake. So, I had to walk up in front of all those people and blew out my candles. It was embarrassing, but very nice of them too. After all of the people had left, Fabrice hauled out an enormous box and told me it was my birthday present. At the top of the box was a wreath made out of oyster shells (oyster shells aren't the prettiest) that I was made to wear around my neck so that pictures could be taken. I was told later that this oyster shell rings are lowered into water to attract baby oysters or something like that. Anyhoo, since Fabrice works for a beverage company, there were a ton of little things in the box that he had probably gotten for free from work...all stamped with alcohol brands. And I don't drink! But I did get this super sweet shirt that says "Staff" that I like great deal (even though it also says Smirnoff Ice...boo). But it was fun to pull out random things like dice and dominoes and nutella and hamburger buns and apricot jam. And then Fabrice brought me something very very nice. He gave me two books about the Charente-Maritime. Now I can share my lovely home with all of you! I can show you all of the forts, and ancent roman cities...everything! Laurent gave me a BBMB tshirt that my entire team had signed. Benoit signed "ton marié (husband)...I love you" which made me laugh. Lea had written "Je t'aimme fort" spelling aime incorrectly, but adding to its cuteness. All in all, a wonderful evening.
I spent most of the morning of my birthday marveling that it was sunny and reading a detective novel in my bed. All of a sudden, I received an text message from Melany which said they were coming to pick me up. I was like...ok. So...I got dressed (I'm entitled to spend the day in my pjs on my birthday!) and went down to meet the Cortieux family, namely Fabrice (my coach), his wife, and their daughter Melany (my teammate). I asked what we would be doing and they told me we were going to a puppy convention! That's right...you heard me. Breeders had come together and were selling puppies...they cost a pretty penny but that didn't stop one from petting all of the puppies. Pug puppies are the cutest. They snort like little piggies and are so potbellied with their curly pig tails. It was a lot of fun. Afterwards, we drove along the coast and stopped at Fort Vauban...another one of the many forts along the coast of the Charente Maritime. The sun was setting and you could just make out Fort Boyard (an island fortress) silhouetted against the horizon. From there, Fabrice treated me to dinner at a pizzeria (pizzerias in France are waaay more posh than they are in the states). I had "Exotique" pizza (French for hawaiian pizza) and it was delicious. All in all a most wonderful birthday. So...I think I'll go finish that detective novel now...
So...Saturday, the day before my birthday, I found myself at the civic center of Marennes. The bball club was hosting a loto as a fundraiser. A loto is basically bingo. And there were some really fantastic prizes! But the majority of the 300 people there were over the age of 50. And they were serious bingo players! Tired of not winning, I started to talk to my neighbor only to be interupted by a loud "SHHH!!!" Wow. Loto is intense. So, I decided to construct a pyramid of bingo chips which entertained me mightily for some time. I watched as the 8 year old Lea used her own money to buy bingo cards and every possible item from the snack bar...she was very proud of the fact that she had paid for it. And she was so sure she was going to win too...welp, teach em young that gambling doesn't pay. Anyhoo, at midnight (I wasn't aware that it was midnight as I was constructing the hanging gardens of Bingolon), Thierry interupted number calling to say, "Today, the 22nd of February, in the United States, is a very important day". Oh crap. So, basically he announced my birthday in front of 300 people, made me stand up and then the lights went out and Fabrice came on to the stage with a birthday cake. So, I had to walk up in front of all those people and blew out my candles. It was embarrassing, but very nice of them too. After all of the people had left, Fabrice hauled out an enormous box and told me it was my birthday present. At the top of the box was a wreath made out of oyster shells (oyster shells aren't the prettiest) that I was made to wear around my neck so that pictures could be taken. I was told later that this oyster shell rings are lowered into water to attract baby oysters or something like that. Anyhoo, since Fabrice works for a beverage company, there were a ton of little things in the box that he had probably gotten for free from work...all stamped with alcohol brands. And I don't drink! But I did get this super sweet shirt that says "Staff" that I like great deal (even though it also says Smirnoff Ice...boo). But it was fun to pull out random things like dice and dominoes and nutella and hamburger buns and apricot jam. And then Fabrice brought me something very very nice. He gave me two books about the Charente-Maritime. Now I can share my lovely home with all of you! I can show you all of the forts, and ancent roman cities...everything! Laurent gave me a BBMB tshirt that my entire team had signed. Benoit signed "ton marié (husband)...I love you" which made me laugh. Lea had written "Je t'aimme fort" spelling aime incorrectly, but adding to its cuteness. All in all, a wonderful evening.
I spent most of the morning of my birthday marveling that it was sunny and reading a detective novel in my bed. All of a sudden, I received an text message from Melany which said they were coming to pick me up. I was like...ok. So...I got dressed (I'm entitled to spend the day in my pjs on my birthday!) and went down to meet the Cortieux family, namely Fabrice (my coach), his wife, and their daughter Melany (my teammate). I asked what we would be doing and they told me we were going to a puppy convention! That's right...you heard me. Breeders had come together and were selling puppies...they cost a pretty penny but that didn't stop one from petting all of the puppies. Pug puppies are the cutest. They snort like little piggies and are so potbellied with their curly pig tails. It was a lot of fun. Afterwards, we drove along the coast and stopped at Fort Vauban...another one of the many forts along the coast of the Charente Maritime. The sun was setting and you could just make out Fort Boyard (an island fortress) silhouetted against the horizon. From there, Fabrice treated me to dinner at a pizzeria (pizzerias in France are waaay more posh than they are in the states). I had "Exotique" pizza (French for hawaiian pizza) and it was delicious. All in all a most wonderful birthday. So...I think I'll go finish that detective novel now...
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Pour Caits
Alors...je vais ecrire une petite message pour mon amie Caitlyn. Mais en fait, il y a longtemps depuis j'ai ecrit quelque chose en francais...je lis, j'ecoute, and je parle le francais tout le temps...mais ecrire? c'est un peu difficile. Qu'est-ce que je peux dire a toi, Caitlyn? Je pense que tu vas adorer la France! Mais les temps sont mal, malhereusement. Il pleut tout le temps et il fait froid...mais Paris est belle...Paris...c'est comme une pierre precieuse. J'ai une liste de choses que tu dois visiter a Paris. Mais bien sur les endroits comme le tour eiffel, mais il y a des autre chose que je sais que tu vas aimer. Par exemple...visite chaque eglise...souvent tu trouves que les plus belles eglises sont les plus petites. Demande a Sarah...elle peut raconter un histoire dans l'eglise de Notre Dame de Montmartre... Quoi d'autre? Mange des crepes! Chaque jour! Peut-etre pas chaque jour...tu vas grossir...je rigole! Alors, t'es contente ma poule? Voila, une message juste pour toi...en francais!
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
This one's for Sarah
So...I watched the Swan Princess last night. For those of you who don't know the glories of the Swan Princess, you must go watch it. RIGHT NOW! Basically, it's a pretty cheesy animated film that I love. And I'm somewhat of an animation snob. In fact, if I had to rate Swan Princess...it would have to be towards the bottom of the list as far as quality goes. 1. Disney/Studio Ghibli 2. Dreamworks (Prince of Egypt) 3. Fox (Anastasia) 4. Nissen (The Swan Princess) 5. The Magic Pony (I think its Russian...I've never seen animation of such poor quality) Ask Sarah about the Magic Pony sometime. Anyhoo, all of this to say that at the end of the film, when Prince Derek is having his big showdown with The Great Animal...I burst out laughing hysterically and couldn't stop. There comes a moment when the Great Animal pins its ears back, starts grinning maliciously, and snorting heavily through its nostrils. Sarah does such an amazing impersonation that although there was no one to hear me I was laughing uncontrollably for several minutes at the recollection. Thank you Sarah. I wonder if living alone is making me go crazy? Oh! And guess what? The special features has a sing along option! When I get home, Sarah, we are going to have a Swan Princess sing along. (Not you, Wesley...you're a rabbit!)
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
25 Things
So, I'm jumping on the bandwagon and publishing my 25 random facts about me like everyone and their mom has been doing on facebook for the last two weeks. Since I don't really have access to facebook, I'll post it here on my blog, since the friends of mine who frequent my blog are the ones I want to read it anyways. Anyhoo, in no particular order...mes 25 choses.
1. I am currently living in the oyster capital of France. Even though oysters taste like little gulps of sea water, I love it here!
2. Napoleon Bonaparte is my historical hero. Hands down.
3. I grit my teeth when I pet insanely cute animals. I also want to squeeze them into oblivion, but as this is hazardous to the health of the animal, I refrain.
4. At 6’1”, I am the shortest person in my family. The french find this “incroyable”.
5. The only age I ever wanted to be was 16…so I could drive.
6. I hate television…it rots the minds of our youth. With the exception of SO YOU THINK YOU CAN DANCE?
7. A purring cat asleep in your lap is akin to heaven. Even when the cat destroys your pants from excessive kneading.
8. Guacamole is my favorite food…although I’m not really sure if it qualifies as food. I love it with Carne Asada, black beans, chips…heck, sometimes I eat it by the spoonful. Not really sure if that’s too healthy…
9. My pet peeve is when people talk in movie theatres. I only pay to see a movie maybe 5 times a year…DO NOT RUIN IT FOR ME!
10. I secretly adore fashion and wish I could wear whatever I darn well please…much like the Japanese. Sometimes I do, but I wish I had to guts to wear the bizarre everyday.
11. If I had smaller feet, I would probably have a shoe obsession. As it is, I already own too many pairs of shoes. And jackets.
12. I’m intensely curious as to what people would think of me if I shaved my head.
13. I like French names for boys even though Americans find them effeminate. Par exemple: Michel, Benoit, Loic, Valentin, Sylvain…the list goes on.
14. My ambition in high school was to narrate a show for the history channel.
15. I love the sun. Like seriously. Like I’ll spend all afternoon in the sun basking like a lizard even if I return home with a sunburn. It hurts so good. I often take a sheet and find a patch of grass and either sleep or read.
16. I cried after the end of the last Narnia book. Not because the story was sad, but because it was the end of the series.
17. I rarely do anything with my hair. In fact, I rarely brush it. I’m not even sure if I know how to do anything with my hair.
18. I consider convincing my mother to let us name the cat Smeagol a great accomplishment.
19. I hate to do the dishes. I’d rather do any other chore. There is some satisfaction of a job well done after doing chores…but with dishes…you know you’re just going to use them again and have to clean them again. Paper plates are your friend.
20. I have perpetual bruises on my knees from basketball. I plan on playing indefinitely, but I often stop and wonder how much longer that will be…
21. I can be a bit of a control freak. You can watch whatever you want on the t.v., but I have to hold the remote.
22. I like to know things. Maybe its the reason I enjoy being a park ranger. I hold the knowledge, and the knowledge is empowering.
23. Sometimes, it is easier for me to understand French than people with British or Scottish accents. You’d think we speak the same language, right?
24. When I was in elementary school, I checked out D’aulaires Book of Greek Myths from the library at least 9 times in one year. I read it through every single time.
25. I don’t eat salad. I feel I could benefit just as much from going in the backyard and munching on some leaves.
1. I am currently living in the oyster capital of France. Even though oysters taste like little gulps of sea water, I love it here!
2. Napoleon Bonaparte is my historical hero. Hands down.
3. I grit my teeth when I pet insanely cute animals. I also want to squeeze them into oblivion, but as this is hazardous to the health of the animal, I refrain.
4. At 6’1”, I am the shortest person in my family. The french find this “incroyable”.
5. The only age I ever wanted to be was 16…so I could drive.
6. I hate television…it rots the minds of our youth. With the exception of SO YOU THINK YOU CAN DANCE?
7. A purring cat asleep in your lap is akin to heaven. Even when the cat destroys your pants from excessive kneading.
8. Guacamole is my favorite food…although I’m not really sure if it qualifies as food. I love it with Carne Asada, black beans, chips…heck, sometimes I eat it by the spoonful. Not really sure if that’s too healthy…
9. My pet peeve is when people talk in movie theatres. I only pay to see a movie maybe 5 times a year…DO NOT RUIN IT FOR ME!
10. I secretly adore fashion and wish I could wear whatever I darn well please…much like the Japanese. Sometimes I do, but I wish I had to guts to wear the bizarre everyday.
11. If I had smaller feet, I would probably have a shoe obsession. As it is, I already own too many pairs of shoes. And jackets.
12. I’m intensely curious as to what people would think of me if I shaved my head.
13. I like French names for boys even though Americans find them effeminate. Par exemple: Michel, Benoit, Loic, Valentin, Sylvain…the list goes on.
14. My ambition in high school was to narrate a show for the history channel.
15. I love the sun. Like seriously. Like I’ll spend all afternoon in the sun basking like a lizard even if I return home with a sunburn. It hurts so good. I often take a sheet and find a patch of grass and either sleep or read.
16. I cried after the end of the last Narnia book. Not because the story was sad, but because it was the end of the series.
17. I rarely do anything with my hair. In fact, I rarely brush it. I’m not even sure if I know how to do anything with my hair.
18. I consider convincing my mother to let us name the cat Smeagol a great accomplishment.
19. I hate to do the dishes. I’d rather do any other chore. There is some satisfaction of a job well done after doing chores…but with dishes…you know you’re just going to use them again and have to clean them again. Paper plates are your friend.
20. I have perpetual bruises on my knees from basketball. I plan on playing indefinitely, but I often stop and wonder how much longer that will be…
21. I can be a bit of a control freak. You can watch whatever you want on the t.v., but I have to hold the remote.
22. I like to know things. Maybe its the reason I enjoy being a park ranger. I hold the knowledge, and the knowledge is empowering.
23. Sometimes, it is easier for me to understand French than people with British or Scottish accents. You’d think we speak the same language, right?
24. When I was in elementary school, I checked out D’aulaires Book of Greek Myths from the library at least 9 times in one year. I read it through every single time.
25. I don’t eat salad. I feel I could benefit just as much from going in the backyard and munching on some leaves.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Pour les gens qui aiment les chats
Everytime I ride my bike past a certain yard in Bourcefranc, there is a certain faucet covered in black and white plastic that strongly resembles a sitting cat. And everytime I ride past this certain yard with this certain faucet, it is certain that my heart will leap up into my throat as I prepare to rejoice over the presence of a cat. (Every true cat lover will know exactly what I mean). But alas! Thwarted again! Last night, after being tricked for what could conceivably be the 1,391st time, I fervently said to myself, "I wish you WERE a cat." I continued on my way and gave no further thought to the matter. Upon exiting the bank, my attention was arrested as I glanced across the street and saw an apparition that made me catch my breath. Sitting in the windowsill, regarding me intently, sat a black and white cat. A cat that looked as if it may have sprung to life from a certain plastic covered faucet. For a full minute I stared at faucet cat and truly believed that my wish had come true. But then I came to my senses and slowly turned my bicycle homewards. I'm sure faucet cat is out there somewhere waiting for me to believe in him again so that I can take him home and he can sit in my lap and purr.
Les Temps des Cathedrales
i am continually struck by the emptiness of the great cathedrals of France. There are signs posted that command silence upon entering a cathedral, but really...who would want to disturb that colossal emptiness, that cavernous silence. Not I... I walked into the Cathedrale de Saint-Pierre today. It is a magnificent cathedral, full of light and color...and I was the only one there to enjoy it. As I walked the floor of the catheral, I was struck by the state of disrepair I found it in. The cathedral is losing the battle against mold. Mold and moss may make for pituresque photos, but they eat away at stone, slowly destroying the history that has long since fled our awareness. What will be left in 100 years? I hestitate to even wonder. Each and everytime I enter a lonely, forsaken cathedral, I fell as if we are trying to make God a relic of the past. My relationship with my savior is alive and vibrant. I mourn for those who view God as a remnant from the middle ages that science was unable to extinguish. And so, each time I enter a cathedral, it is with a sense of melancholy. Cathedrals are beautiful houses of God, but they can be made even more so if filled to capacity with worshippers who lift their voices to fill the cavernous silence with music and praise. Helas! Il n'est plus les temps des cathedrales.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
What can we do to end racism?
This was the question I posed to my students after doing a presentation on Martin Luther King and the Civil Rights Movement. Many students had standard responses like educating our children and being tolerant, but I must say that my favorite answer was quite unexpected. "Why, put all the racists in gulags, of course". The idea of rounding up all the racists in the world and packing them off to Siberia to work in Russian labor camps was a novel one, and I found myself wiping the tears from my eyes before I could respond. I love French teenagers.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Platypus
I think God created the platypus to be a perpetual thorn in the side of the scientist and his infernal habit of trying to neatly classify everything that doesn't necessarily need to be neatly classified. Maybe God created some things to just be. Maybe something is beautiful just because we can't comprehend it.
(This idea popped into my head shortly before midnight and wouldn't leave me alone until I had turned on the light and written it down. Who says God doesn't have a sense of humor?)
(This idea popped into my head shortly before midnight and wouldn't leave me alone until I had turned on the light and written it down. Who says God doesn't have a sense of humor?)
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Poe
Edgar Allan Poe, to be exact. I've been reading his Tales of Mystery and Imagination by the light of my bedside lamp late into the night for the past week or so. And all I have to say is that he is a genius. He practically invented the mystery/detectice genre with his Dupin stories (read Murders in Rue Morgue, The Mystery of Marie Roget, or The Purloined Letter). And he also has the ability to create suspense like few other authors I've seen. After reading The Pit and the Pendulum, I contemplated for hours the imagination he must have had to come up with something so sinister. Horror movies like Hostel and Saw got nothing on Poe. Although, Poe creates horror without resorting to descriptions of gore. I think that is what I appreciate the most. I also feel some affinity with Poe as his love for the French (and especially Paris) shines through in his works. Speaking of French, not only does he throw out random French phrases without translating them, he throws out German, Latin, and Greek phrases as well. Frankly, he makes me feel extremely unlearned. He also is constantly making references to classical mythology that are so far removed from the education we receive today that the only reason I had an inkling of what he was speaking was because of a course I took on the Ancient Historians, and class which maybe 20 people have taken out of the entire population at Point Loma. In addition to this, he employs words which I am positively sure he must have invented. It thrills me when I come across a word that I don't know, but it is a little excessive with Mr. Poe. I don't have the ability to leave my apartment, trek to the teacher's lounge and search the dictionary every time I encounter a new word (which happens frequently when reading Poe). He is also excessively fond of the word "Phantasmagoric". Go figure. But don't think that he is all sinister stories of horror...His "Loss of Breath" was one of the funniest things I've read in a good long while...following almost in the tradition of Twain. Anyhoo, I'm sure you didn't check my blog to read a book report, but I just wanted to share what's been on my mind lately...and I've been thinking about Mr. Poe quite a bit. Hope this finds everyone quite well!
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
An American...or two...in Paris
Continuing the journal entries from last time...
Le 26 Decembre
Today was a day of waiting. I awoke this morning and waited in the hostel until it was time to leave to go get Sarah. When I reached Gare du Nord, I waited 30-45 minutes for the RER B because there was some sort of problem with its normal circulation. When I finally arrived at the airport, I spent an hour and a half waiting at Sarah's arrival gate surrounded by Muslim women who emitted screeches akin to Xena, warrior princess, everytime they greeted someone they knew. I finally found Sarah (her luggage WOULD be the last thing loaded on to the conveyor belt) who had had about 7 hours of sleep in the previous two days combined, who I was very glad to see regardless. We made our way back to Republique, deposited our bags in our room, and freshened up a bit...luckily, I was able to move out of the mixed room into an all girl room...no more snoring old men for me. By this time, I was ravenously hungry (having been reduced to eating leftover christmas cookies) so we stopped and had some kebab. I can't really describe doner kebab other than to say that they shave meat off a giant meat log. Its rather tasty all the same. It was so nice to sit down and eat some real food after two days of surviving off of christmas cookies and chocolate. Anyways, afterwards, we took the metro to trocadero so we could take the requisite eiffel tower pictures. It was rather cold (0-2 dgrees Celsius) and the line to go up the tower was horrendously long and Sarah was dead on her feet so we decided to call it a night. We walked to Invalides and saw the Pont Alexandre III, the Grand Palais, and Invalides all lit up and looking beautiful. We also had a chance to see the eiffel tower sparkle. (it does this every hour). So, we returned to Republique, took wonderful hot showers, and Sarah was asleep by 8 pm. Hopefully she will wake up refreshed tomorrow for our louvre day. I'm gonna try to convince her to skip the eiffel tower in favor of Notre Dame...we shall see what happens... But I must say, i'm very happy to have Sarah here with me. I wish I could keep her for longer. Anyways, good night. Tomorrow, the Louvre!
*NOTE*
In between the last post and the next post, Sarah and I ran all over Paris and saw A LOT! We visited the Louvre, climbed the towers of Notre Dame, strolled the streets of the Latin quarter/Saint Michel, visited Versailles, paid tribute to Napoleon at his tomb at Invalides, perused the military history of France at the Musee D'Armee, ate more kebab, climbed the eiffel tower (so cold!), ate sandwiches on the steps of the opera house, climbed the hill of montmartre to sacre coeur, ate many crepes, and visited the artists of montmartre at the place du tertre. Whew! I know we did much more...but on to the next journal entry!
Le 29 Decembre
Many things have transpired in the last few days, but of all the incidents that have occured, I must record one, lest I forget it. While in Notre Dame de Montmartre, an older church alongside Sacre Coeur that is relatively tourist free (tourist free...the way to be! For churches at least...), Sarah had an "experience"...although I must say it wasn't of the religious type. The solemn hush that can only be found in a cathedral was all pervading, and Sarah and I were treading softly and speaking in whispers. About half way through the church, Sarah sneezed. Which would have been ok...except it was the most unnatural sounding sneeze I have ever heard...and it echoed through the cavernous passageways of the cathedral, utterly destroying the sanctity of that holy place. The look on Sarah's face was a melange of horror and embarrassment that was strongly fighting the urge to laugh. We struggled to compose our faces in this most solemn of places and headed for the exit as demurely and quickly as possible. As soon as we reached the open air, we burst out laughing hysterically. And it is impossible to keep from laughing to myself each time I recall the incident.
P.S. What do you think of Snert as a possible cat name? I've added it to my collection of names I will have for my cats when I'm a crazy old cat lady. Thus far I have, Baudelaire (for a black cat), Themistocles (this cat needs to be an epic hero), and Smee.
Le 26 Decembre
Today was a day of waiting. I awoke this morning and waited in the hostel until it was time to leave to go get Sarah. When I reached Gare du Nord, I waited 30-45 minutes for the RER B because there was some sort of problem with its normal circulation. When I finally arrived at the airport, I spent an hour and a half waiting at Sarah's arrival gate surrounded by Muslim women who emitted screeches akin to Xena, warrior princess, everytime they greeted someone they knew. I finally found Sarah (her luggage WOULD be the last thing loaded on to the conveyor belt) who had had about 7 hours of sleep in the previous two days combined, who I was very glad to see regardless. We made our way back to Republique, deposited our bags in our room, and freshened up a bit...luckily, I was able to move out of the mixed room into an all girl room...no more snoring old men for me. By this time, I was ravenously hungry (having been reduced to eating leftover christmas cookies) so we stopped and had some kebab. I can't really describe doner kebab other than to say that they shave meat off a giant meat log. Its rather tasty all the same. It was so nice to sit down and eat some real food after two days of surviving off of christmas cookies and chocolate. Anyways, afterwards, we took the metro to trocadero so we could take the requisite eiffel tower pictures. It was rather cold (0-2 dgrees Celsius) and the line to go up the tower was horrendously long and Sarah was dead on her feet so we decided to call it a night. We walked to Invalides and saw the Pont Alexandre III, the Grand Palais, and Invalides all lit up and looking beautiful. We also had a chance to see the eiffel tower sparkle. (it does this every hour). So, we returned to Republique, took wonderful hot showers, and Sarah was asleep by 8 pm. Hopefully she will wake up refreshed tomorrow for our louvre day. I'm gonna try to convince her to skip the eiffel tower in favor of Notre Dame...we shall see what happens... But I must say, i'm very happy to have Sarah here with me. I wish I could keep her for longer. Anyways, good night. Tomorrow, the Louvre!
*NOTE*
In between the last post and the next post, Sarah and I ran all over Paris and saw A LOT! We visited the Louvre, climbed the towers of Notre Dame, strolled the streets of the Latin quarter/Saint Michel, visited Versailles, paid tribute to Napoleon at his tomb at Invalides, perused the military history of France at the Musee D'Armee, ate more kebab, climbed the eiffel tower (so cold!), ate sandwiches on the steps of the opera house, climbed the hill of montmartre to sacre coeur, ate many crepes, and visited the artists of montmartre at the place du tertre. Whew! I know we did much more...but on to the next journal entry!
Le 29 Decembre
Many things have transpired in the last few days, but of all the incidents that have occured, I must record one, lest I forget it. While in Notre Dame de Montmartre, an older church alongside Sacre Coeur that is relatively tourist free (tourist free...the way to be! For churches at least...), Sarah had an "experience"...although I must say it wasn't of the religious type. The solemn hush that can only be found in a cathedral was all pervading, and Sarah and I were treading softly and speaking in whispers. About half way through the church, Sarah sneezed. Which would have been ok...except it was the most unnatural sounding sneeze I have ever heard...and it echoed through the cavernous passageways of the cathedral, utterly destroying the sanctity of that holy place. The look on Sarah's face was a melange of horror and embarrassment that was strongly fighting the urge to laugh. We struggled to compose our faces in this most solemn of places and headed for the exit as demurely and quickly as possible. As soon as we reached the open air, we burst out laughing hysterically. And it is impossible to keep from laughing to myself each time I recall the incident.
P.S. What do you think of Snert as a possible cat name? I've added it to my collection of names I will have for my cats when I'm a crazy old cat lady. Thus far I have, Baudelaire (for a black cat), Themistocles (this cat needs to be an epic hero), and Smee.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Christmas in Paris
Hello all and Happy New Year! This will be the beginning of several posts as I recount my adventures with my sister. So, I will start off the series with my reflections written in my journal as I traveled to Paris to meet Sarah. Direct from my journal:
Le 24 Decembre
Saw 10 swans in between Marennes and Rochefort...always in pairs. Also saw several nests high up in power lines. Looked as if they belonged to eagles. I wonder...do swans nest in trees or on the ground? On my way to Paris to see Sarah! Merry Christmas!
Later...
I don't know how much more of this insufferable techno music I can take. It've lost count of the number of cheap cheesy santas I've seen suspended from rooftops and windows...must be well over 20 by now.
On the train...
There is a super creepy old man sitting across the aisle from me! He keeps staring at me! I thought he got off at Poitiers, but he magically reappeared after I fell asleep. He keeps looking across the aisle out of my window even though he has his own window and since its dark outside, you can't see anything except for reflections meaning that he is staring at my reflection! Ew! I keep catching him staring at me and he straightens up real quick and pretends to look somewhere else every time. I just want to yell at him..."Why do you keep staring at me!?!"
Le 25 Decembre
I've become a most excellent liar. I've already told innumerable lies today, jut to protect my personal safety. I made the mistake of telling the truth this morning at the tour eiffel. The old "do you speak English?" so i can hand you a card with my bosnian refugee story on it. (There are so many of these women and they all have exactly the same story...its just not possible). When approached by these bosnian women, I just pretended that I didn't speak english, and pulled it off pretty well. Then when the guys selling the mini eiffel towers attacked with cries of "pretty lady!" I gave them a cold Parisian "Non, merci." They always target me because I'm too tall to be French. The last straw this morning was a crazy Moroccan guy who accosted me as I attempted to kill time until lunch by reading on a park bench. he started off by asking if he could speak with me while I obviously had no want of company as I was deeply immersed in my book. Well, he started off with the basics. What nationality are you, what is your job in France, etc, etc. Of course I was lying through my teeth. He wanted to know where I was staying...I gave him the other end of town from my hostel. He then asked if I was married and when I responded in the negative, he enthused, "me neither!". Uh oh. He proceeded to show me his passport, his cell phone, his visa, things you should never show to anyone! Anyhoo, I told him I had a boyfriend in La Rochelle. I'm such a liar. He then asked what I was going to be doing later and I said, "je vais disparaitre"..."I'm going to disappear". I've never been so blunt with anyone before. But he didn't get the hint. He wanted me to accompany him to the eiffel tower tower but there was no way in this lifetime or the next that I was going to do that. He then got desperate and told me that so "jolie" and "belle". But to no avail. He finally left me alone to enjoy my book in peace. At the lunch at Ginger's apartment (the youth pastor at the american church of paris), I got along rather well with everyone and thoroughly enjoyed myself. We had a hodge-podge of chili, german bread, romanian cabbage rolls, okra, and australian ham bread...maybe it was mexican...I can't remember. Anyways, i ate far too much but had several good conversations with people from all around the world. There was a mexican woman who spoke english with an australian accent having lived there for years, romanians, new zealanders, a girl from Cameroon...we were a very diverse group. I made good friends with one of the New Zealanders, Roxy. We spent Christmas night by walking the entire length of the champs-elysees (the lights are fantastic! and so are the crowds!) We bought waffles and ate them as we walked to Place de la Concord. From there we took the metro to Haussman where we looked at the decorated shop windows at Printemps and Galleries LaFayette. I am soo going shopping in La Rochelle during the soldes (sales) in January! Anyhoo, had a most satisfactory night, returned to the hostel, made friends with the Canadian woman in my room, and fell into an hour or so long conversation with her. I spoke French for the majority of the conversation until I learned that she could speak English and the we switched over. The old man who stayed in our room was perfectly polite and respectful...except for the fact that he snored like Satan. And then the weird Spanish guy woke up and left at 5 AM, and then my mom called called at 6 AM to say that Sarah's flight had been delayed by 3 hours. So yeah...a most interesting Christmas.
Le 24 Decembre
Saw 10 swans in between Marennes and Rochefort...always in pairs. Also saw several nests high up in power lines. Looked as if they belonged to eagles. I wonder...do swans nest in trees or on the ground? On my way to Paris to see Sarah! Merry Christmas!
Later...
I don't know how much more of this insufferable techno music I can take. It've lost count of the number of cheap cheesy santas I've seen suspended from rooftops and windows...must be well over 20 by now.
On the train...
There is a super creepy old man sitting across the aisle from me! He keeps staring at me! I thought he got off at Poitiers, but he magically reappeared after I fell asleep. He keeps looking across the aisle out of my window even though he has his own window and since its dark outside, you can't see anything except for reflections meaning that he is staring at my reflection! Ew! I keep catching him staring at me and he straightens up real quick and pretends to look somewhere else every time. I just want to yell at him..."Why do you keep staring at me!?!"
Le 25 Decembre
I've become a most excellent liar. I've already told innumerable lies today, jut to protect my personal safety. I made the mistake of telling the truth this morning at the tour eiffel. The old "do you speak English?" so i can hand you a card with my bosnian refugee story on it. (There are so many of these women and they all have exactly the same story...its just not possible). When approached by these bosnian women, I just pretended that I didn't speak english, and pulled it off pretty well. Then when the guys selling the mini eiffel towers attacked with cries of "pretty lady!" I gave them a cold Parisian "Non, merci." They always target me because I'm too tall to be French. The last straw this morning was a crazy Moroccan guy who accosted me as I attempted to kill time until lunch by reading on a park bench. he started off by asking if he could speak with me while I obviously had no want of company as I was deeply immersed in my book. Well, he started off with the basics. What nationality are you, what is your job in France, etc, etc. Of course I was lying through my teeth. He wanted to know where I was staying...I gave him the other end of town from my hostel. He then asked if I was married and when I responded in the negative, he enthused, "me neither!". Uh oh. He proceeded to show me his passport, his cell phone, his visa, things you should never show to anyone! Anyhoo, I told him I had a boyfriend in La Rochelle. I'm such a liar. He then asked what I was going to be doing later and I said, "je vais disparaitre"..."I'm going to disappear". I've never been so blunt with anyone before. But he didn't get the hint. He wanted me to accompany him to the eiffel tower tower but there was no way in this lifetime or the next that I was going to do that. He then got desperate and told me that so "jolie" and "belle". But to no avail. He finally left me alone to enjoy my book in peace. At the lunch at Ginger's apartment (the youth pastor at the american church of paris), I got along rather well with everyone and thoroughly enjoyed myself. We had a hodge-podge of chili, german bread, romanian cabbage rolls, okra, and australian ham bread...maybe it was mexican...I can't remember. Anyways, i ate far too much but had several good conversations with people from all around the world. There was a mexican woman who spoke english with an australian accent having lived there for years, romanians, new zealanders, a girl from Cameroon...we were a very diverse group. I made good friends with one of the New Zealanders, Roxy. We spent Christmas night by walking the entire length of the champs-elysees (the lights are fantastic! and so are the crowds!) We bought waffles and ate them as we walked to Place de la Concord. From there we took the metro to Haussman where we looked at the decorated shop windows at Printemps and Galleries LaFayette. I am soo going shopping in La Rochelle during the soldes (sales) in January! Anyhoo, had a most satisfactory night, returned to the hostel, made friends with the Canadian woman in my room, and fell into an hour or so long conversation with her. I spoke French for the majority of the conversation until I learned that she could speak English and the we switched over. The old man who stayed in our room was perfectly polite and respectful...except for the fact that he snored like Satan. And then the weird Spanish guy woke up and left at 5 AM, and then my mom called called at 6 AM to say that Sarah's flight had been delayed by 3 hours. So yeah...a most interesting Christmas.
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