The Waiting Game

I realize that this blog has been, at times, depressingly self-important.  Haha!  Since August, blogging about my experiences here has been a linear connection to home (and a very therapeutic one I might add!).  Though the content has been pretty positive, the whole story is that it hasn't always been puppies and rainbows.  I've experienced homesickness (missing Billy and my family and friends), along with loneliness and  *lots* of waiting.  In fact, looking back, so much of my time here has been - in one way or another - a lesson in waiting.

In terms of volleyball, waiting is such an important part of training; not just in terms of resting and recovering properly after workouts, but also technically on defense, hitting, and blocking.  Not unlike many sports, volleyball is a game where a lot has to happen between touches in order for a team to be successful.  The incredible saves you see...  the impossible kills...  they all occur because of 1. the incredible ability of a team to perform explosive synchronized actions in a split second and 2. the ability of individuals to wait for the exact correct moment to come into contact with the ball.

In terms of life, I've been counting down the days until my return home since Billy left in February.  Looking around this place I've inhabited since August, my bags are finally packed.  I'm now counting down the hours before I leave France (maybe forever).  It's a strangely familiar feeling...  My two beautiful sisters, Sarah and Meghan, were here in Paris with me this week...  in a way, ushering me back into my life in California.  The waiting will soon be over.  That will be a feeling I haven't felt in a while!

Photo Essay - Spring Sprung

This time of year bees, butterflies, (chocking hazards on the bike - haha!) and beetles are buzzing around everywhere to announce the arrival of Spring.  These two cities (Tours and Saint-Cyr-sur-Loire) are in full bloom right now.  This photo essay represents the best I could do at capturing this seasonal beauty.  The pictures come from my backyard, the flower market, and random walks and rides around town.  Highlights include poppies growing out of stony roadside walls, a sunset behind the gym, and a twenty foot guard dog.  Haha - Enjoy!

Photo Essay - Rue de l'Hermitage

 

French Milestone #3

This evening I celebrated International Day of the Woman with a whole stadium at the Tours vs. Sète professional men's volleyball game. A few guys from my men's regional team were seated up in the stands together like a good volleyball mafia family, so we watched together as TVB won handily.

We caught the tram back to Saint-Cyr and bantered the whole way.  Now, granted, #1 these guys are joksters (most of the time they're laughing anyway because they'll laugh at almost anything), #2 they are accustomed to my accent and humoring me, and #3 it isn't always easy to differentiate whether they are laughing at me or with me, but - audience aside - I'm pretty sure I was on fire tonight.  I made a couple of well-timed zingers that genuinely made this whole group of native french guys laugh out loud.  Ahhhh - felt so good!  Group laughter is a new high for me - so I thought I'd share!  :)

Alright, that's all for now.  More later!

Random Ramblings - Part III

Forget About It

The French say "laisser tomber" like gangsters say "forget about it".  What does it mean??  Make up your minds!!!

A Tall Drink of Anything

You know the feeling when you order a large orange juice at a diner and you're super let down when it comes out because it's 8 oz?  Imagine a whole country with cupboards packed full of this special brand of diner-sized disappointments.  French cups are designed for sipping on much smaller serving sizes.  I now guzzle juice directly from the carton and (more often than not) while standing in front of the refrigerator.  I know - it's sad - but it doesn't make sense to dirty a glass for one gulp...  it's not even a big gulp.  Hehe... ;)

Basic Instincts

Dropping Billy off at the airport reminded me that I haven't seen a wax paper toilet seat cover in a while.  In fact, you're lucky if you get a toilet seat at all in most public restrooms around here.  And, oh, instead of the little handle, the French use a myriad of levers, buttons, and hand-sized trick-door-style contraptions to flush their business.  Each visit to the lou is followed by a multiple choice quiz:  a. #1, b. #2, or c. all of the above.  You can normally choose c (all options available) without fail, and yes, sometimes you still have to jiggle it a little.  Ha!

A Curious Creature of Habit

This is my fourth day in Montmartre.  It is *so* amazing and cute!  Every day since I've been here, I've done the exact same thing:

1.  Wake up early to skype with Billy
2.  Breakfast at the hostel (pack a picnic lunch)
3.  Wander around the neighborhood to find things that Billy and I can do when he gets here
4.  Eat lunch and feed the birds
5.  Get some *real* coffee (fyi - this is the best coffee shop in Paris)
6.  Yoga
7.  Walk/hike up to Sacré Coeur to see the sunset over Paris
8.  Pick up quiche and veggie side dishes for dinner
9.  Chat with the cool traveler girls that are boarding in the same room as me
10.  Settle into a book and bed

I'm sad to be saying goodbye to Paris tomorrow, but so so grateful for this ten-day yoga vacation.  Today, I plan to attend my last Bikram class of 2013 (and my ninth class in a row) and then catch the New Year's Eve fireworks display from the Eiffel Tour and the Champs Elysées.

In 2014, I'm looking forward to the second half of our season, a visit from Billy in February, and, in May, a return trip to California via Amsterdam.  Happy New Year to everyone back home!

A Long Story Where Nothing Happens

This morning I checked out of my hostel in the 1st arrondissement (between the Louvre and the Pompidou), and, at around 9am headed up to the 9th arrondissement to compare a cheap apartment I found on auboncoin.fr (which is like French craigslist) with another hostel from the same company (Bureau des Voyages de la Jeunesse or BVJ - kinda like French YMCA).  I also went straight away to check out the Bikram yoga studio in Montmartre.  The studio is amazing and I can't wait to get in and get started.  Today will be my fifth day in a row and I'm feeling more determined than ever.

After popping my head into the studio (which is also beautiful and fully-equipped with mats and showers), I set out to hunt down the hostel.  It was a short five minute walk away, but when I arrived, the thick blue doors were closed and locked and there was no answer when I buzzed the front desk.  Hmmmm...  I dialed the number for this hostel and who picks up but the guy who just checked me out at the Louvre location!  Yep.  They told me this location doesn't open until tomorrow, and that I needed to go back and stay one more night at the Louvre location. So, this got me thinking that maybe the apartment was going to be the best course of action since these hostel people were not doing the most stand-out job.  Maybe if this apartment really sucks AND if the price is right...

By this time, I had been schlepping my bags all over the metro and Montmartre for a few hours and my shoulders were begging me for a break.  I found a cute little corner cafe that looked like an appropriate spot to people-watch and bang out some postcards, so I sat down at a tiny outdoor table.  After about ten minutes I realized no one had seen me sit down, so I popped my head in and asked if it was okay that I sit "there" indicating the location of my tucked away table.  They said no problem and sit down and we'll be right out to take your order.  So, five minutes later, server #1 popped out to take my order.  Cappuccino??  No problem.  I was forewarned that the milk takes at least five good minutes for her to properly froth.  I said that was absolutely fine as I was especially fond of a frothy foam.  Flash forward five minutes and out comes said server with a cigarette and a friend.  I just patiently wrote second-hand-smoked cappuccino-less postcards.  I thought for sure she's going to come right out after her cigarette break with this coffee...  Nop!  Four postcards later and almost an hour after I had originally sat down I thought, "Okay, there is no foam on earth luxurious enough to merit this wait", so I popped in to cancel my order.  My servers eyes doubled in size when I told her I was still waiting for my coffee.  She shot daggers at server #2 (who said, "Here it is!" and pulled my cappuccino out of the refrigerator???).  I told them not to worry about it and took off laughing a little to myself and in hopes of finding some speedier service...

So, there I was, installing me and my bag-lady-like assortment of gear at cafe #2.  I ordered and enjoyed a cappuccino.  Brilliant.  The bill came and forty-five minutes later I finally came to terms with the fact that no one was coming back to pick up my money and bring change (since I didn't have the exact amount).  Oh man.  Here we go again.  Ha (by now I was laughing a little less enthusiastically)!  I jumped up and loaded my shoulders with luggage and brought my tab with the money inside.  Server #2 accepted the bill with incorrect change and quickly brought it to server #1, who was casually flipping through the morning paper, and didn't even turn around, but instead burped out a "Merci!" as if to accept my incorrect change as a tip for ignoring me for an hour.  I literally stood and stared in disbelief, mouth agape, in the direction of the back of my server's head.  I honestly did not know what to do next.  Finally, the barmaid broke the silence - "Are you all settled?" she asked.  I replied, "I'm settled, but I haven't received my change yet."  Server #2 brought over my change and I rallied my caffeine-calibrated body parts to find this apartment...

Once I had properly explored this neighborhood and deemed it as safe and cheap and a great way to get out of the most touristy parts of Paris, I arrived at the apartment building as-advertised.  The ground floor was spiffy with an enclosed courtyard and glass doors and beautiful spiral staircases, but - not unlike many apartment buildings in Paris - as I climbed up six stories the stairs, the walls, the ceilings, the welcome mats appeared less and less storybook...  By the time I got to the sixth floor; there was a solid stench, the wall paper was discolored and peeling, and the ceiling was dripping with a questionably dank substance.  First, the landlady showed me the working toilet on the floor, equipped with one tiny wrought-iron-barred window.  From there she steered me down a narrow hallway, a walk that had me wondering which dingy apartment door was hoarding the toilet seat...  Haha!  Finally upon unlocking the door to possibly my own place in Paris for the next five nights, I discovered that the "apartment" was the size of my mom's walk-in closet.  Oh my gosh - so small!  Free wifi, yes, working kitchen, yes, heater, yes, clean sheets and towels, yes...  I wondered what was exactly the price of privacy (as that was exactly the opportunity cost here).  I left, thanking the landlady for her time and apologetically admitting that I was not prepared to pay 235 euro for four nights in hell (she pounced a last-minute 100 euro deposit on me - huh?).  I jumped on the bus back to the Louvre hostel location and happily unloaded my things in my original room (assuring myself that - no matter what the price - clean and safe was an unbeatable combination)...

With little time to spare, I was off to yoga!  On my walk to the studio I spotted a - hold up, what?!?! - MEXICAN restaurant.  With burrito on the brain, my concentration in class suffered, so much so, in fact, that while the rest of the class conquered the spinal and seated series' I was already settling into cheese enchiladas.  I ate and tried to grasp how much like a sitcom my day had been.  Not much of anything happened and, at the end of it all, I ended up exactly where I started.

Still, in Paris - here, where the streets are paved with poodle poop - the fun never ends!

The Incredible Story of One Lucky Mitten

After the farmer's market this morning, I headed north on my bike to stock up on staples that don't grow from the ground here like maple syrup, muesli, and oat milk.  Once inside Auchan (European Walmart equivalent that normally makes me think deeply about the Russian anarchist group Voina, but that's a different talk show...) I noticed that one of my new gloves was missing!  I immediately retraced my steps back to the bike rack, but turned up nothing.

After coffee and shopping I retraced my bike route home scouring the ground for one bright green mitten.  Turning around the second time, I started hearing my boss at SweetWARE in the back of my head quoting Einstein "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."  I'm having visions of Tom Robbins' Skinny Legs and All, my bright green mitten bravely striking out on it's own and making it's way in the world with other escaped inanimate objects.  This was craziness, and I loved these gloves so much...  I was determined to reunite this perfect pair.

Flash forward three hours, I'm walking and looking.  After no more than fifteen minutes of walking up the street like a crazy person with one glove on (which apparently is the international sign language for "I've lost a glove")  I hear a woman from across the street yell "Madame!"  Yeah?  She's sitting at the bus stop about to catch a bus going the opposite direction.  You will not believe this.  She goes, "Have you lost a glove?"  I reply, "Why yes, I have!"  What a coincidence!  I cross the street and she explains that she picked up my other glove on the bike path a few hours ago and took it home.  She happens to live nearby and can get it for me and it will only take a second...  We walk together for a minute (I'm feeling much less crazy by now) and I agree to wait on a bench outside the entryway to her building.

A few minutes later, an old woman wearing kinda outlandish jewelry and a disheveled hair cut cops a squat next to me and almost sets her scarf on fire lighting her cigarette.  She asks me if I'm visiting someone here.  I tell her I'm waiting for someone.  Not much time passes before I see two people in scrubs leaving the building, which is when I ask the woman next to me if this is a hospital.  She says, "YES, this is a psychiatric hospital."  Uhhh...  The crazy is starting to creep back.  Haha!  Now, I'm sitting here wondering if this lady is going to come back with a rubber ducky declaring "Here's your glove back!" ...or just forget about me entirely.  Wrong on both counts.  Wonderful woman #1 restores peace to my universe and I walk home (so overjoyed) with two warm hands.

Ready to Wear

Today I went shopping for warm winter clothes in downtown Tours (Thanks, Meghan!).  I bought a pair of boots with fur lining, some (fabulous) bright green fingerless wool gloves with mitten flaps, and navy blue low top Asics (not especially warm, but will *for sure* help me go undetected as a foreigner in far more social situations - that is - until I open my big American mouth to talk or laugh abnormally loudly).  Haha!

Since today was the first day of real winter weather (ie in the negative numbers, fyi -1°C = 30°F, ex see breath, check, frost doesn't melt, check, need visible confirmation that fingertips still exist, check), this cash gift from my beloved sister arrived just in the nick of time.  And guess what?!?  I only paid...  drum roll please..........................................................  75 euros!  Ah yes, because today I was welcomed into French hand-me-down heaven.  Here they call it Prêt à Porter (Ready to Wear).  One step inside this particular thrift shop and I knew immediately that I had struck second hand store gold.  In fifteen minutes flat I found three completely unique (basically new) items that fit like a charm.  The price was right, but - being the huge cheapskate that I am - that didn't stop me from haggling anyway and getting everything marked down another 15 euros.  Sold!  I wore the boots and the gloves out of the store and a huge dumb smile on my face for the rest of the day.

I'm so warm! ...and, I tell ya, it's getting harder and harder for peeps to pin me as 'not from around here'!  Double score!

Random Ramblings - Part II

The *Right* Right of Way

After getting (almost) run over several times, it has been explained to me that the right turn *always* has the right of way here.  So, for example, say you're driving fast down a straight road, but you're approaching an intersecting street on your right.  If and only if there is a vehicle barreling down that street about to make a fast and completely legal right turn onto the street upon which you are driving, it's your responsibility to prepare to stop.  

Video Killed the Radio Star

You don't have to be attractive to be on TV here.  There *are* lots of attractive people on TV here, but it certainly does not appear to be a universal rule like it is in the States.  There are loads of normal looking people on TV.  Makeup, lighting and airbrushing are used sparingly.  This has not affected how disinclined I am to watch TV.  When I do, every other commercial is for cheese or chocolate.

Sick and Tired (In the Best Possible Way... Hehe)

Starting my sixth week of a fifteen week jump training program called Air Alert!  My body is beat, but I'm jumping higher all the time.

Also, my jump serve is steadily improving.  Maguy has helped me in practices to systematically fix one thing at a time.  First, she fixed how I hold my serving hand.  Second, she fixed how I hold the ball.  Next, she fixed the height of my toss.  Then, she fixed how far I stand back from the end line and the size of my steps.  Finally, how high my hand is at the point of contact.  Now, for the first time in my life (and thanks entirely to Maguy) I can confidently say that I have a killer jump serve.  Woohoo!

On Sunday, we lost to the third seed in our league (25-22, 25-7, 25-20).  I can't even describe how frustrating this game was...  What an emotional roller coaster!  We came so close in the first set only to totally implode in the second set - starting out badly with a slough of unforced errors and then ending in a disappointing 12 point rut (stuck in a rotation we just could not sideout).  I didn't even make it to the service line...  Competing in that third set was not enough of a consolation to comfort us from the single digit shut out.  Ugh!  After it was over, I just went to the sideline and wept.  The locker room was quiet, but I wanted more than anything to tell my team, "I'm sick of losing.  I know we can compete with these teams!"  So, I just blurted it out...  Everyone was looking at me like, "Uhh.  You're speaking in English."  Haha!  Here's what I was having trouble with:

AVOIR MARRE DE - to be sick/tired of
j'ai marre de
tu as marre de
il/elle a marre de
noux avons marre de
vous avez marre de
ils/elles ont marre de

RIVALISER - to compete
je rivalise
tu rivalises
il/elle rivalise
nous rivalisons
vous rivalisez
ils/elles rivalisent

So, the phrase would've been:
"J'ai marre de perdre.  Je sais qu'on puisse rivaliser avec ces équipes là."

I'm more fired up than ever to WIN and I believe our team is right around the corner from really performing.  This week, I'm taking Maguy's advice and tapering my double days.  All this down time is freeing me up to rest, write, and chomp at the bit...  I'm excited to have a great practice tonight and blow our rivals out of the water this weekend!

Slowly Into Winter

This morning, like every Wednesday morning, I rode down to the Les Halles Farmer's Market.  Most of the leaves are fallen now.  The bare trees revealed a low haze over the Loire river valley, rendering the morning sunlight cold and wintry.  Since we've been working on blocking this week and I don't have gloves, my Wednesday morning ride turned into a (much needed!) cold air ice bath for my hands and fingers.  Haha!

I'm getting to know my way around here pretty well and now I can't even remember the last time I was lost.  I'm also finally building up a rapport with the local farmer's market merchants.  They recognize me now and greet me with a more familiar generosity in their eyes.  Today, two of my favorite people - mushroom lady and artisan tomato man - weren't there and I almost cried because I look forward to our exchanges so much.  I've become quite appreciative of their tiny acts of kindness and their willingness to engage a lonely stranger.

All romance aside, though, the farmer's market is just a great place to practice my french and increase my food vocabulary.  I've become quite adventurous lately, asking random people questions about the different vegetables and their favorite preparations.  For example, just today I took a chance and bought a quarter of a huge warty looking pumpkin with instructions that involve peeling, boiling, draining, and mashing with milk, cinnamon, and sugar.  Doesn't that sound delicious?!?

French Milestone #2

Someone asked me for directions!  Yay!

I was riding home from a record-speed shopping stop today and a nicely dressed older woman stopped me to ask where the nearest Picard (French frozen foods store) was.  After barely containing my excitement about being asked for directions by a (possibly senile?) native French speaking person in the first place, I apologized that I wasn't sure, wished her a fine day, and pedaled ahead.  Sure enough, less than a minute later I spotted the Picard.  I wasn't going to miss this opportunity to help someone in need (it's a very rare role reversal these days...).  So, I pulled a uey to let her know that it wasn't much further up ahead on her right.  Nothing like a French Milestone and a good deed all rolled into one to make today a great day!

Remembrance Day

168 Saint-Cyriens gave their lives in the First World War.  This morning I attended the inaugural ceremony for a fountain next to the City Hall in Saint-Cyr which signifies and honors their lives.  The ceremony was attended by the Mayor of the city, the president of associations, military, police and firefighters, schools, and families.

It was a clear, cold morning, which made my flip flops a special treat for anyone in my vicinity...  They drew some attention away from the weighty topic of the day and added a little (unintended) levity to peoples' mornings.  I got the classic stare, the look + laugh, the double look, the triple look (which is a lot like the double look, but includes disapproving eye contact), the foot to face stare, the foot to face and back to foot stare (which clocked in at an amazing twenty three seconds!), and the very nice "Aren't you cold?"  I was most uncomfortable and, needless to say, had a difficult time focusing on how deep and beautiful this moment was in the history of the city of Saint-Cyr.

Nevertheless!  The eleventh of November is a national holiday in France that commemorates the armistice signed between the Allies and Germany on "the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month".  The fountain remembers the 168 fallen soldiers and innocent men, women, and children from Saint-Cyr who died for France in World War I.  The inaugural ceremony was quite beautiful, and (appropriately) French.  Afterwards there was a snack!

A Very Very Un-Scarey Halloween

Halloween came and went here without much excitement at all.  Our practice was cancelled that night, so I went to the gym to workout and on my way back home I spotted one trick-or-treater who, from what I could gather, was being asked by a kind old lady to wait on the sidewalk while she searched in her house for a piece of candy.  I just kept riding, laughing to myself a little, imagining her dumping out her purse on her kitchen table, turning wool sweater pockets inside out, eventually getting out a flashlight, and finding a year old candy bar in her basement.  Poor kid.

The remaining bike ride home from the gym also produced one haunted house sighting.  A neighbor decorated inside and out for what looked like a Halloween party with a mostly invisible attendance (but that could've just been my mind playing tricks on me).  Haha!  All in all, it was a most uneventful evening: no costumes, no gunshots, no stabbings, no drunk adults roaming the streets in ripped stockings, no zombies, no screaming until 3am, no sirens...  Why is this list making me miss home???  :)

With Halloween grossly overlooked, I thought November would come equally quietly, but I was wrong.  Overnight, the cemetery around the corner from where I live turned into a botanical garden of chrysanthemums.  It was a Halloween miracle!  I wish I could've taken before and after photos because it was such a beautiful thing to see almost every grave come to life with bright autumn hues - magenta, pink, yellow, orange, and purple - leaving this previously gray and gloomy plot of land just bursting with color.

After asking around and a little googling, I found out that in France Friday, November 1st is All Saints Day (Toussaint) and Saturday, November 2nd is the Day of the Dead (Jour des Morts).  These holidays are marked by the distinct ritual of honoring the graves of deceased family members.  Apparently on this day more than 22 million chrysanthemums (94% of total annual sales) are sold in France alone.  What a beautiful tradition!

Fun with Verbs!

Here are some of my favorite new verbs in French!

faire valloir - to make the most of
focaliser - to focus
mener - to lead
mouvoir - to drive, propel, move
parachever - to perfect
parvenir - to reach, succeed in
percer - to break through
planer - to soar
pointer - to sharpen, aim, check off
potentialiser - to increase the effect of
pourchasser - to pursue
rentabiliser - to make profitable
surélever - to heighten, raise
tâter - to feel out
taper - to bounce
turbiner - to work, toil
valoriser - to increase the value of
vivifier - to invigorate

... and last, but certainly not least!!
zozoter - to lisp

Their word for LISP is even meaner than ours!  Isn't that crazy?!?
Je zozote
Tu zozotes
Il/elle zozote
Nous zozotons
Vous zozotez
Ils/elles zozotent

...SO MEAN!

French Milestone #1

I finally dreamed in French!  Yay!

We were on the beach and this huge humpback whale was coming up close to the shore and turning over and for some reason I had an exacto knife.  A long narrow part of the whale came crashing down on me so that, for a moment, my world shrunk down to (from the ground up):  sand, exacto knife, the left side of my face, the rest of my head, a very heavy whale part.  I wasn't scared.  Instead, I felt pure shock, followed immediately by complete curiosity.  I found a way to relax there and to signal to everyone on the beach that I was alright.  It wasn't long before I was in front of a mirror in a nearby beach house putting the finishing touches on my white linen outfit.  Tim Kelly from Bring It Promotions came in to announce the details of our evening outing (French reality TV show style).  Haha - so weird!

It's such a relief that this milestone has been reached.  Dream in French.  Check.  :)

Random Ramblings - Part I

51

There's a 51 bus here!  I swear to God...  I was walking down the street and BAM! there was the freaking 51!!!!!  Ahahah - hilarious.  I almost had to sit down on the side of the road I was laughing so hard.  One day - when I'm really homesick - I'm going to ride that line from end to end and dream about the Bay Area.  Ha!  The 51...  We've shared so many good times...

No 666

There's no 666 here.  I found this out in a very absurd way!  Walking into town on a race day, I passed by two guys still proudly sporting their runner's numbers.  One of them was 666!  So I did what any normal American would do - I pointed and laughed in a way that invited everyone to join in - he just looked down and looked back up and gave me the "What, did I forget to zip?!!?" look.  We continued walking in opposite directions, everyone very confused.

Pick a Lane

They don't have lanes in the community pool here, so swimming is like playing a game of frogger.  If you know me, you know that I am a very weak swimmer.  So, as you can imagine, I am like a baby elephant under there...  I've kicked plenty of people and been caught (on a few occasions) accidentally/intentionally dirty looking some individuals who just stand right in the middle.  I haven't built up enough courage to ask them why they just stand there in the middle of the pool causing others to go out of their way to swim around, but one of these days when my anger has subsided I will find a way to ask nicely.

Pre-game Routine  

To prepare the regional men's team for their first match, I wanted to encourage them to find a pre-game routine.  However, I didn't know how to say "pre-game routine", so I decided to just describe what I do to prepare for a match and asked them what they call that.  They said "obsessive compulsive disorder".  Wah wah!

There's more, but I can't think of it, so that's all for now.  More later!

Poetry is Bravery

Last week I picked up a mini magazine called PROG! at my local newsstand/coffee shop/bar.  The postcard-sized booklet advertises 24 pages worth of cool cultural happenings in and around Tours.  Lo and behold!  The first Monday of every month, a café in Tours Centre hosts a free *keyword* poetry reading.  So, before my usual Monday night sauna and swimming sesh, I built up some courage and jumped on the tram to find some poets, poems, and poetry.  Oh la la! 

Opening the thick door to the café, I realized that the average age was 62 (this number was significantly lowered by one young suicidal-looking gentleman).  Central themes were nature, family, love and tenderness.  Under normal circumstances, this poetry might induce vomiting.  However, since I was too distracted by the meanings of the words (pronounced loudly and clearly), the poetry reading became more like an extraordinary listening exercise.  We went around the room and everyone read something…  Luckily, before I left the house, I jotted down a few of my favorite poems from Birds of Arizona, by William Moor (just in case - anticipating that I might need some material myself).  Here is what I read:

Greater White-fronted Goose

And

june

Mallard

I

Cinnamon Teal

Mandela and when you are going

Ruddy Duck

A house plan

Wild Turkey

If

all

of the

huge

cost

all of

us

all

just

Montezuma Quail

Are

they are and are in

R a

R

R and

who are in the

R

R

R

R

Neotropic Cormorant

The

Cedar Warwing

That

, that

man

that the

Yelllow Warbler

Click the

...  Cool right?!  Haha!  I stayed for a while afterwards to talk to the president of their association (who happens to live right down the street from me in Saint Cyr) and another very nice woman who pretty much told me her life story.  Their poetry was not at all what I’m used to.  Poetry where I come from challenges great big ideas with interesting sounding words that cut into your thoughts and graft them with your feelings.  Truly, this experience left me with a deep sense of gratitude for Billy and his poetry and the poetry community in the Bay Area.

I've realized that, no matter what topic you choose to write about or what country you inhabit, writing poetry is an incredibly brave act.  So I wrote a poem.   I’m sure the poem I'm about to share with you has been written before – either by a sad solitary peace corps worker, or a lonely soldier in some dugout somewhere craving the greatest creation to ever come from the United States besides the internet…  I'm warning you - it's so bad that it's even more bad, but here it is anyway:

Peanut Butter Poem

On a sunny afternoon

I will lick you from a spoon

Chunky, smooth, sweet

You’re all I ever want to eat

You make me more me

Pee

Bee

This week I've been working on a few poems inspired by different circumstances I've encountered while living here in Saint Cyr.  I'm also working overtime on my French...  Billy sent me a link to this site, which is a fun way to learn a new language:  www.duolingo.com  Check it out!

That's all for now.  More later!

Pizza, Sauna, Practice

Wonderful lunch meeting with Maguy today.  Today was NOT a double day, but we went to a pizzeria, so I just *had* to indulge my curiosity!  Qu'est-ce que c'est la pizza française?  It was so delicious...  I ordered the vegetarian pizza topped with tomato sauce, cheese, onions, peppers, mushrooms, artichokes, eggplant, and olives.  Soooo good!  The thin crust was charred around the edges and soft in the middle.  Mmmmm...  An obvious fork and knife situation...

My Monday training sesh was a swim and a run.  I went to the local pool and almost had my whole workout derailed because it turns out they have a sauna!!!!  YES + exclamation points forever!  If there hadn't been a 30 minute limit, I'd still be in there right now...  Awww, so nice!

At practice tonight my serve-receive passing felt better!  I'm getting into a rhythm of relaxing my arms and then refocusing on the ball to get my platform angle just right before contact.

First home game this Sunday!  Until then?  Work, work, work!  :)